Wanderlust
by LastAboard
Summary: Travel show host Bella Swan spends her days globetrotting and her nights in cameraman Edward Cullen's bed. When the lines between lust and love are blurred, Bella might have to admit that Edward may be more than a quick fix for a 'dry spell'. AH, OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**Travel show host Bella Swan spends her days globetrotting and her nights, or at least quite a few of them, in cameraman Edward Cullen's bed. When the lines between lust and love, convenience and dependency are blurred, Bella just might have to admit that Edward might be more than a quick fix for a 'dry spell.' A bit of angst here or there, but mostly fluff. And lemons. Lots of lemons. AH, slightly OOC, canon couples, ExB, Rated M.**

* * *

><p><strong>Hello! Before anything else, I'd like to say THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! to all of you who read and reviewed <strong>_**Cabin Fever**_**, my one-shot and first venture into fan-fic. I can't tell you how happy the reviews I got made me! I may not have received a lot, but to me, anything would have seemed like a lot! To those of you who asked for more, I'm not sure if there will be more of **_**Cabin Fever**_**, but I'm hoping you might like this new multi-chaptered fic. I'm expecting it to be pretty fluffy and pretty citrusy, but there's some potential for a little angst, so we'll see how that goes.**

**So, without further ado…**

**I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. I do, however, own the plot of this derivative work and ask that this story not be reposted or reproduced without my permission. This story is rated M and not intended for readers under the age of 18. **

* * *

><p><strong>Wanderlust<strong>

**CHAPTER 1**

_Riiiiiing! Riiiiing!_

The shrill tone of the telephone I had sitting on the desk in the corner of my room broke into my consciousness. My head hurt a little – I'd over done it last night – but all in all I was feeling surprising okay. The sun coming through my sheer curtains was blinding, that much I could tell before I even opened my eyes. I cracked them open just a bit, letting my pupils acclimate to the brightness. Whoever was calling me wasn't giving up and I rolled off my bed to answer, if only to make the high-pitched ringing stop.

"Hello?" I croaked into the receiver as I looked into the antique mirror above the desk. I had mascara smeared beneath my eyes and my hair, once waved and pinned perfectly into place, was a horrific mess. The dress I'd been wearing was folded neatly on the old trunk at the end of my bed, which I was thankful for but pretty sure I hadn't done myself.

"Hey, Blackbird. You don't sound so good." Edward's deep voice came over the line and I detected a bit of amusement in it.

"I just woke up. My head hurts a little."

"Not surprising. I didn't know someone so small could drink so much gin."

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"I was distracted. Why don't you let me in?"

"What? You're here?" I scurried into the bathroom and grabbed a makeup removing cloth from my vanity drawer.

"Yep. Just coming up the stairs. I've got some breakfast. Or maybe it's lunch by now."

I scrubbed the cloth over my face and checked myself in the mirror. Not great, but a little better. I could hear Edward's footsteps approaching my front door and just had time to throw an oversized sleep shirt on over my panties before he knocked.

I swung the door open to find Edward holding two coffees in one hand, his cell phone in the other and a bag dotted with a couple of grease spots under his arm. He wore a plain black t-shirt that I hadn't seen in the last couple of weeks so he probably didn't have it on the road with him but, judging by the wrinkles, had probably spent that time balled up in a pile of unfolded laundry on his bed. His jeans sat low on his slim hips and I was concerned he was going to trip on the overly long and barely tied laces of his soccer sneakers as he strode into my kitchen and deposited the coffees on the counter.

"So, how was your distraction last night?" I asked him as I popped the lid off of one of the Greek deli cups and proceeded to dump about seven pounds of sugar into it.

"I wouldn't know." Edward leaned back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he took a big gulp from his coffee without adding anything to it.

"What? Weren't you hanging out with that blonde chick Alice introduced you to?" I reached around him to grab a knife from the drawer to cut each of the danishes I'd found in the bag in half.

"I was, but then _someone_ drank too much and I was recruited by Alice to take them home." He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Are you saying I cock-blocked you?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." He smirked at me.

"Oh. Poor baby Edward didn't get any action last night? How will he survive?" I gave him an exaggerated pout.

"Are you serious with this, Swan? You would be pissed if I did this to you. Not only did you cock-block me, but I bring you breakfast the next morning and _this_ is how you treat me? Some friend you are." He runs his long fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He could probably use a haircut soon.

"I could make it up to you," I say in a sing-song voice and kick at his shoe with my bare foot until he uncrosses his legs enough for me to stand between them. "Do you want to touch my boobies?" I push them together with my hands and jiggle them around a bit. I can tell he's trying not to smile as he looks down his nose at me.

"A pity grope? I think not." He says and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Wait – do you mean a pity grope for me or a pity grope for you?" I take a step back. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not. I mean, I know I'm not the most attractive thing ever right now but I didn't think it was _that_ bad.

His emerald gaze darkens a bit as he looks me up and down and the corner of his lip finally twitches up into his crooked grin. "Couch or counter?" he asks, raising his eyebrow again.

"Chair," I tell him, pushing him down into one of the dinette seats and pulling my nightshirt over my head in one swoop.

#WL#

"I'm almost there," I breathe as I bounce on Edward's lap and he lifts up to meet me, pushing himself as far into my body as our position will allow. "Just a little more."

My cell phone goes off for the second time in five minutes and it's Alice's ring again. Edward hesitates for a moment and glances between me and the cell phone.

"Don't you dare stop!" I practically yell at him, swiveling my hips in a quick succession of circles on his lap before I go back to riding him in my up and down motion.

The second my phone stops ringing his starts up and he growls, kicking his jeans (and therefore his phone) across the floor as he stands without leaving my body and lays me across the kitchen table. He pulls out nearly all the way, hooks his arms in the underside of my knees then leans over me.

"You want it harder?" He always asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Fuck me, Edward."

He slams his hips against the backs of my thighs and I scream as he sinks into me, his cock hitting _right there_ and sending a shock of intense pleasure through my body. His thrusts are quick and rough and after a few more strokes of his pubic bone rubbing against my clit, I'm shaking and my pussy is gripping his cock for dear life.

There's nothing like a good orgasm to cure a headache.

#WL#

"Did you just get back from the gym or something? You sound like you're out of breath," Alice yells into the phone. Even for New York, the street noise around her is so loud that I'm surprised she can hear anything I'm saying let alone whether or not I'm out of breath.

"Uh…no." I glance at Edward, who is pulling his t-shirt back over his head and smoothing it down his chest. "My elevators broken, I had to use the stairs."

A smile spreads across Edward's face, the kind that make his eyes crinkle up at the sides, and he shakes his head while he listens to my conversation.

"Oh. That's shitty. Listen, can you come down to the office in an hour? Jasper just got some news and he says he doesn't want to wait for Monday to tell everyone."

"Can't he just call us and tell us?"

"You know how Jasper is, Bella. He likes the build-up. Just come down, it won't take long. And if you talk to Edward between now and then, let him know. I just tried to call him a few minutes ago, but he didn't answer."

"Yeah. I'll run by his place on my way over."

I disconnected the call with Alice and slid off the table.

"Alice says to tell you to meet at the office in an hour. Jasper's got some news," I tell Edward as he shoves the last Danish half into his mouth.

"Cool. I was going up there anyway to take a look at some of the footage we got last week."

"Alright. I'm going to take a shower and then I'll be over. Thanks for…everything. I'm feeling much better."

Edward barks out a laugh and gives me another of his full-blown smiles. "No problem, Blackbird. No problem." He leans down and kisses me on the cheek then steps out the door.

#WL#

It should probably be said that Edward and I don't exactly have a normal relationship. Well, it started out normal but has since evolved into something a little beyond d that. Edward is the cameraman for the show that I host on The Travel Network, but we've actually known each other for much longer than the time we've worked together. Edward and I grew up in the same small town in Washington State and while we were never close friends in school, we were friendly acquaintances. One day, when I was a senior at UW, I was walking through the quad and saw Edward sitting under one of the cherry trees, messing around with a camera.

"Edward? Edward Cullen?" I asked I approached him, even though I knew full well it was him. We may not have been close in high school, but I'd have known that mess of bronze hair anywhere.

He looked up, and I got a full view of his face as a look of recognition crossed his features. I don't think I'd ever _really_ noticed before then how good looking Edward Cullen was, with his sharp, stubble-covered jaw and piercing emerald eyes that were surrounded by sweeping, dark lashes. He definitely looked older, but not so different that I wasn't left wondering why the hell I didn't go for _that_ in high school.

"Hey! Bella! How are you?" He stood, towering over me by more than a foot (I could have sworn he wasn't this tall before) and we gave each other an awkward hug.

"Fine. I mean, good. How about you?"

"Good. I was just messing around with my camera. It's kind of cliché, but I wanted to get a picture of the trees while they're blooming. Might be my last chance, this being my senior year and all."

I nodded. "Just because it's cliché doesn't mean it's not still beautiful," I told him, then immediately blushed at my own cheesy observation.

"I totally agree," Edward smiled, "I'm just not so sure my professor does."

Edward and I chatted for awhile longer and I realized I had only minutes until my next class and had to run to make it, but not before I invited Edward to the party my roommates and I had planned for that weekend.

Edward came to that party, and several after that, and eventually began hanging out with our group on a regular basis. In the weeks leading up to graduation, I saw Edward practically every day. We'd become fast friends and I regretted the fact that I didn't look him up sooner. He was there to proofread the final draft of my communications honors paper and there to save me from making out with Mike Newton when I got shit-faced at the party I threw to celebrate completion of said honors paper. He was there when I accidently dyed my hair black while trying to give myself a new shade of chocolate brown, nicknaming me Blackbird without missing a beat. I'd scowled at him when he first called me the name. "I think it looks great," he'd said, "and Blackbird is definitely my new name for you. It's perfect considering your last name and all. Plus, blackbirds are crazy smart and have you ever really looked at one up close? They're really beautiful." It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me and I've been dying my hair black ever since.

I cried the day Edward came by my new apartment to say goodbye. He'd been offered an internship in Los Angeles working for a film studio in the photography department. He leaned down and kissed my cheek before he crushed me against him in a tight hug, pressing my face against his chest.

"Don't cry, Blackbird," he told me. "I'll visit. I'll see you soon. And who knows? Maybe you'll end up in L.A., huh? I'm sure they can always use a few more reporters."

Edward did visit once or twice, but his internship kept him busy and he ended up getting hired as a full employee and was going on set for relatively long stretches of time.

Meanwhile, I was working for the Seattle Times, scraping by with an online column that I had my doubts anyone actually read. I was beginning to think I would have to find a job doing something else, anything else, to make ends meet when I got a call from Alice. Her fiancé, Jasper, who she'd met in New York while she attended graduate school, was producing a television show and he needed a host. She thought I'd be just what he was looking for and begged me to come to New York for a screen test. She didn't have to beg very hard. Lucky for me, Jasper agreed with her that I'd be the right woman for the part.

The first few months of shooting were a little rocky. The show was a sort of travel journal and the first few episodes took place in the U.S. since the show's budget wouldn't be very big unless it was picked up by a network. I was trying to get the hang of the whole hosting thing, which really wasn't that hard, but I wasn't really a natural in front of the camera either and I had to put a good amount of effort into it. The small crew wasn't getting along too well, a problem which seemed to stem from the cameraman, James. James wasn't the most positive guy ever and he was pretty argumentative about his vision for the show and what Jasper actually wanted. If you asked me, James wasn't even that good. I thought his dailies looked like some kind of low-budget public access special. You didn't have to be a master cinematographer to know we weren't getting picked up by a national network with what James was turning out.

Jasper wasn't an idiot and he knew as well as I did that James wasn't going to work out. I wasn't there when Jasper told James that they should part ways, but I heard it wasn't pretty. Apparently, there were lots of threats that Jasper would be sorry for doing it and that the show would never make it without James. Jasper did look pretty defeated when I went into his office that afternoon. I don't think he regretted letting James go, but I do think he was concerned about who would replace him. Lucky for Jasper, I knew just who to call.

I fully believe that Edward is the reason our show was not only on the air, but a big success. Barely a month after he agreed to sign on as our new cameraman and director of photography in general, we were picked up by the Travel Network. He was gifted at what he did and it seemed that no matter where we went or what we shot, it looked beautiful through Edward's point of view.

All in all, my life was coming together nicely. I had a great job – a _fun_ job – making more than a decent amount of money. I rented an apartment downtown that I loved, even if I didn't get to see it too often. I was very rarely homesick since all the time I was travelling, all of my best friends were right there with me. I was seeing the sights and going to glamorous parties and generally doing things that I never would have believed in a million years I'd have the chance to do if you'd had asked me where I thought I'd be after college. There was just one thing that was missing and I know you think I'm going to say a boyfriend, but you're wrong. I've never been the type of girl who needs to have a boyfriend to be happy, but I've also never been timid when it comes to sex and my belief that you don't need to be in a long term relationship to have it. Maybe that's not a very ladylike philosophy, but it is what it is and it wasn't like I was stone-cold slut. I did date the guys I slept with and I was safe about it, asked all the right questions and used all the right protection. I didn't date them enough to consider them boyfriends, but there weren't a ton of them either, probably not more than one every few months or so, but that number had dwindled to zero after I signed on for the show.

"Do I have a stamp on my head that says 'I'm Bad in Bed'?" I asked the group one night after a few drinks when we were all gathered at a bar back in New York following a particularly long shoot. "Because there is a serious dry spell going on and I never used to have this much trouble."

"How long of a dry spell are we talking, here?" Jasper asked.

"Long. Over a year." I told him, tipping back the rest of my gin and tonic. "Guys just don't approach me anymore and I don't really feel comfortable approaching them. I mean, come _on_, I'm the girl, I'm not supposed to have to do all the work."

"You're intimidating. That's why they don't talk to you," Rosalie, show's editor piped up from across the table.

"I'm five foot two, Rose. I don't think I'm intimidating them."

"It's not your _size_, Bella. I don't mean that you're _physically _intimidating. It's just the energy you give off. You have this confidence about you that's great, but it can make you hard to approach. Sometimes you gotta play helpless, you know? Make them feel like you need their help with something. Make them feel useful. Men love that kind of shit."

"Is that true?" I raised my eyebrows and looked to Edward.

"Don't look at me, Blackbird." He shook his head and grinned. "I kind of like you the way you are. I'd hit that." He jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow.

"Aw. See? This is why we're friends. Now, if you could be a proper wingman and convince that guy at the bar over there to hit it, that would be awesome."

"Hmm. I don't know. That girl next to him looks like she's going in for the kill. I'd have to distract her first and she's not really my type."

"When has that ever stopped you?" I asked. He glanced back at me as his crooked grin crept onto his face.

"You're right. Let's go."

Half an hour later, Edward and I were sharing a cab headed downtown after discovering that the man at the bar was married and Irina (at least we think that's what her name was) barely spoke a word of English. The cab driver was beat boxing up a storm as we wove through traffic in the East Village and when it started sprinkling, I was glad I wasn't one of the people standing on the street waiting to get into a club.

"I meant what I said, you know." Edward's deep voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?" I turned to look at him in the dimly lit cab.

"That I'd sleep with you."

I just stared at him.

"I mean, I wouldn't want to ruin what we have or make things weird, but…I think it could work. For the dry spells, as you put it. I trust you enough to tell me if it doesn't work. If you trust me, I think it could be sort of…beneficial."

I laughed out loud. "Are you suggesting we be friends with benefits, Edward? I haven't heard of anyone doing that since high school!" I continued laughing and the corners of Edward's lips twitched upward a bit, but he didn't join in.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"Here's your stop lady," the cab driver called, jerking to an abrupt stop at the curb.

"Edward, are you drunk?" I asked him, studying his face for any indication that he hadn't meant what he'd just proposed or wasn't in his right mind when he suggested it. I saw none.

"No. Not particularly. Why? Are you?"

I shook my head.

"Come on, lady. The clock's tickin'," the driver tapped his finger on the seat impatiently. "Where to mister?"

"Nowhere," I answered for Edward, "He's getting out here."

I threw a twenty at the driver, grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him toward my front door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

**Well – I hope you like what you've seen so far! I'm hoping to update about once a week but the first few chapters might be a little quicker than that – I could have had this first one go on for quite some time but my goal for this story is to stay somewhere in the 3.5-6K words for each chapter. Review if you like and I'll try to respond – it will definitely keep me smiling during my work day! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Okay - I might have spoken too soon when I said the chapters would be between 3-5K. That might not really be realistic for me. I am trying very hard to stick to posting one chapter every week though, and so far so good!**

**Also, I just want to preface this with the fact that I was not lying to you when I labeled this as an Edward and Bella story. Please, trust me on that and believe me - I am tragically canon when it comes to those two. **

**One other bit - if you've rec'd this story somewhere, please let me know! I'd love to be able to thank you! I had a strange burst of visits and story alerts a few days after I posted chapter 1 (not so much on the reviews, though...) and am suspicious that someone might have rec'd it somewhere. It'd be awesome if they did!**

**See you below!**

**I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. I do, however, own the plot of this derivative work and ask that this story not be reposted or reproduced without my permission. This story is rated M and not intended for readers under the age of 18. **

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 2<p>

By the time I strolled into the lobby of the production offices, it was almost an hour after Alice had called. I thought I'd actually done pretty well since I still hadn't showered when she called and considering my morning activities, going out without a shower wasn't exactly an option.

"Bella, hi!" Jasper's assistant Jessica, who doubled as the company's receptionist, popped up from behind her desk and then disappeared again.

"Hey, Jess," I stopped in front of her desk and leaned over to see her crouched on the floor, stuffing papers into six matching red binders. "What're you doing down there?"

"Oh…um…I should probably let Jasper tell you." She flipped the cover closed on each of the binders and gathered them up before standing and straightening out her sweater. "I'll bet you're glad to start your vacation, huh?"

"Yeah. I haven't done much so far, but I was kind of looking forward to doing nothing after being gone so much this year. Are you going to the wrap party tomorrow night?"

"Definitely! I got an awesome new dress for it and I was thinking," she lowered her voice, "that I might ask –"

"Hey! Blackbird! Get in here, you're holding up the show!" My head snapped toward the conference room door where Edward was leaning precariously on the back two legs of his chair, just enough so that I could see him through the doorway and the toothy grin he was flashing me.

"I'm being summoned. Want me to bring those in?" I held out my hands for the binders in Jessica's arms and she handed them over before plopping herself back into her chair. I went into the conference room and took the empty chair between Edward and Emmett.

"Alright, let's get started," Jasper clapped his hands. He looked like he was about to pass out from the excitement of whatever it was he had to tell us, which meant it was probably pretty exciting since Jasper is generally pretty hard to rile up. "Bella, can you give one of those to everyone?"

I noticed name tags stuck on the spines of each of the binders and passed them out before I opened my own. There was about an inch worth of paper inside with three tabs sticking out along the edge labeled "Ireland", "India" and "New Zealand".

"We've got a new contract," Jasper announced, his blue eyes bounced around the room to take in everyone's reactions but most people hadn't looked up from their binders yet. "You all know that our show was the second most watched show on the Travel Network this past season. The network loved the whole thing, but they particularly loved our Route 66 episode. The website saw more traffic than ever with searches on road trips after it aired and they want more. But this time, they want it a little less domestic. "

I couldn't help but feel a little proud about this. I'd worked hard on the show this year and that Route 66 episode had been pretty damn good – we'd worked on it for a whole week and it was the first one that I felt like I nailed, like I was meant for this hosting job and not just a rookie trying not to stumble over my words.

"So, why these three countries? Haven't they been done to death already?" Edward looked a little less than enthusiastic.

"Well, to be honest, it _is_ a bit of a test. They want to make sure we can make it interesting before they invest in a more extensive itinerary. They already know people will watch specials on these places – they're some of the most talked about locations in the online trending topics."

"Trending topics?" Edward raised his eyebrow at Jasper.

"Never mind. They're popular topics in the forums. That's all you need to know."

"When do we start?" Emmett asked, swallowing his last humongous bite of the sandwich in front of him.

"A week from today." Jasper took about a half step back as if he expected some type of retaliation. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't get it considering we'd all been waiting nearly a year for vacation and it looked like that was getting cut short now. Instead, he was met with silence around the table.

"Well, shit. Good thing I haven't unpacked yet," Emmett balled up the wrapper from his lunch and launched it towards the garbage can across the room.

There goes half my vacation. Good thing I didn't have anything planned.

#WL#

I spent the next two days just doing my laundry, which was officially my least favorite thing in the entire world. There were a lot of things about my apartment that were great – hardwood floors, an exposed brick wall, crown molding – but the lack of laundry facilities in these old buildings really sucked sometimes. I had to load up whatever I wanted to wash and lug it two blocks to the closest Laundromat (which Rose consistently reminded me I should be thankful for since the closest Laundromat to her apartment was _eight_ blocks away) and sit around and wait there for it to be done. And, since my job basically requires me to not be home for relatively long periods of time, thereby building up large amounts of dirty clothes, you can see why doing my laundry takes me so long.

Edward usually came with me and did his laundry too, but he'd gotten an earful from him mom when he called to tell her he wouldn't be able to come out to Seattle for a visit next week after all. She hadn't seen him in a year and she burst into tears upon hearing that this trip would be pushed off (I would know, I was standing next to him when he called and could hear her through the phone) so he decided that he'd just suck it up and go see her over the weekend even if he was probably going to be exhausted going into this new project.

Well, I suppose the laundry wouldn't have taken me so long to do if I hadn't offered to do Edward's for him while he was gone.

"Are you sure about that?" Edward asked as he watched me separate my hots from my colds. "You really don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to do it, but I have to do my own anyway and this way you won't have to worry about getting it done when you get back. You haven't unpacked yet, right? Just wheel that shit over here and I'll take care of it."

Half an hour later, he was back with his suitcase, just like I'd told him to do.

"Thank you so much, Blackbird. I really appreciate it. Perhaps as payment, I could get us a movie and some takeout? Any type you want."

"Yeah, that would be awesome. I have been craving spicy food so bad. I want something with yellow curry; I don't even care what it is. Just yellow curry and really spicy."

"Okay. What do you want to watch?"

"Don't care. Surprise me."

Edward left me to finish sorting my own laundry and I decided to wait on his. I'd never been in a long term relationship, at least not one where I had regular man-laundry to do, and I'd heard some horror stories from my few married friends. I had this feeling that when I opened that suitcase, I'd want to back out of my offer and I didn't want to get his hopes up just to dash them. I probably should have thought that out a little before I offered it to him.

Edward came back with what looked like just about everything a Thai restaurant could possibly make with yellow curry and laid it all out on my coffee table before queuing up the DVD and calling me out into the living room.

"Holy shit, Edward! Are there other people coming over?"

"No. Why?" He looked up at me, his head cocked just the slightest bit and a confused expression on his face.

"Because this is enough food for, I don't know, like an entire army of people."

"Oh. Well, I wasn't sure which one you'd want the most and it all sounded good to me. Besides, you like leftovers, right?" He twisted the tops off of two beer bottles in front of him.

I did like leftovers, especially Thai leftovers. I glanced at the menu screen frozen on the TV.

"What are we watching?"

"It's a western. The one about Jesse James that I've wanted to watch for awhile. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Fire it up," I told him as I grabbed one of the boxes and started eating right out of it, foregoing the plates Edward set out.

The movie looked beautiful, and I'm sure Edward must have liked it because half of the reason why he watched movies was for the cinematography, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't bore me to sleep – literally. It was already dark when we started watching but when I woke up with my neck aching from the strange angle I'd had it laid against the arm of the couch, I could just tell that it was really late. The room was bathed in the blue light from the auxiliary screen on the television and Edward was laid out next to me on the opposite end of the couch, his long legs scrunched up in a position that could not have been comfortable.

I lifted myself off the couch slowly, careful not to jostle him awake. I was thankful Edward paused the movie when we finished dinner so we could close the containers and put them in the fridge – I would have hated to have to throw out that much food just because we let it sit out too long. Once I was up off the couch I went to the linen closet and pulled down a fluffy comforter that I'd had since college. It was my favorite one I'd ever had but was from the days when I still had a twin bed and so, being too small for the bed I had now, it had been relegated to the linen closet. I unfolded the blanket and laid it over him, bringing it just to his neck. He made a quiet groaning noise and his long eyelashes fluttered a bit against their resting place above his cheekbones, but he didn't wake up.

I tiptoed to my room, undressed and got under the covers. I didn't bother to set my alarm – I might have had a lot to do to get ready for next week but I was going to cram as much vacation into these few days as possible.

#WL#

I woke the next morning to bright sunlight, just like the day before. If the sun was this bright, it also meant it was really clear and probably really cold, but I supposed that was better than it raining or snowing for my trek to the Laundromat. I stretched my arms above my head and closed my eyes again, laying there and just soaking in the gloriousness that is my bed. For someone who isn't home very often, I'd put an inordinate amount of money and time into making it the most comfortable thing east of the Mississippi. I had a pillow-topped mattress that I'd covered in a thin little pad that could be adjusted to any temperature, cold or hot, whatever you liked. The thread count on my sheets was so high they almost felt like silk and I had no less than six perfectly fluffed pillows at my disposal. Actually, Edward had teased me about all the pillows when I went to buy them, asking why any one person would ever need that many, but I didn't hear him complaining two days later when we used them for a little position variety during…extracurricular activities.

After a few minutes of reveling in the comfort of my warm bed, I tossed the covers off and swung my legs off the bed. The floor was freezing cold under my feet and I scurried out the door and straight into the bathroom where I was met with a half-naked Edward, rubbing toothpaste across his teeth with his finger.

"It's freezing! I'm going to get in the shower and warm up. I'll be fast. You're welcome to take one when I'm done." I stepped into the shower stall with my pajamas on and closed the door behind me before I pulled the camisole over my head and stepped out of the matching shorts. I know Edward and I had _biblical_ knowledge of each other pretty regularly, but we weren't dating – I couldn't just be taking my clothes off in front of him _all_ the time.

"There's an extra toothbrush under the sink if you'd rather use that," I called to Edward as I flung my pajamas over the top of the shower door. "It's pink, but if you don't care about that, you can have it."

I turned the water on and shrieked when the cold spray hit my skin, covering me in goose bumps and making my nipples hard enough to cut glass. My hands fumbled with the temperature knobs, cranking the hot water nearly all the way on.

"What time does your plane leave?" I asked when the water started to warm up a bit and I could finally relax. I waited for a response, but didn't get one. I knew Edward was still out there, I could see his silhouette through the frosted glass.

"Edward?" Still no answer. "Do you have time to go get some breakfast?"

Nothing again.

"Edward?" I cracked the stall door open and peaked out. He stood there, his emerald gaze fixed toward where I stood in the shower. "What are you doing?"

"Deciding whether or not I should get in there."

_Oh. _A flutter of excitement ran through me.

Here's the thing about my relationship with Edward. Before anything else, we were best friends. Us having a good time together was never reliant upon sex and because of that, ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, the sex wasn't planned. It was usually spontaneous and always fun and that's what made it so fucking good. Well, that and the fact that Edward just seemed to be good at it. He knew exactly what my triggers were and let's just say I could always count on him to get the job done.

I heard the thud of his jeans as they hit the floor and a few seconds later, he stepped into the stall and right up behind me. He wrapped one arm under my breasts and placed one hand on my hip, digging his fingers in a bit and pulling me back against him so that I could feel how aroused he was against the small of my back. The fine hairs on his chest ticked my shoulder blades as he clutched me to him, brining his hand up to gather my hair to one side of my neck as he ghosted his lips just under my jaw on the other side before moving his hand down to pull lightly at my nipples.

I took his hand in my own, bringing it away from where his fingers were playing with my chest and brought them down to the apex of my thighs, releasing a high pitched sigh when he took over and moved them through the lips of my pussy, circling my clit and back down where he dipped in just the tip of his finger.

"You're so wet, Blackbird," he whispered into my ear, his usually velvety voice taking on a husky tone.

"Well, we are in the shower," I panted back, unable to resist the sarcasm, even with him pressed against me and driving me crazy with his fingers.

"You know what I mean." I could practically hear the smirk on his face. "Put your hands out in front of you, against the wall," he commanded me and I obeyed immediately, leaning forward a bit to reach the tiles. Edward reached down and wrapped his fingers underneath my right thigh then lifted it up and out a bit, opening me up to him. He moved the arm under my breasts down to wrap around my belly, holding me in place and balancing me on my one leg as he bent his knees to line himself up and then slowly slid into me, gradually straightening his legs again until he was buried deeply within me and I was standing on tiptoe to give him as much space as possible with my ass pressed firmly against him.

He was still for a moment and I tried to suck in as much air as I could, not knowing if it was the thick, steamy air or the nearly overwhelming sense of fullness that was making me feel like I couldn't get enough oxygen. He readjusted his grip on my thigh, bringing it up just a fraction of an inch higher before he pulled out as slowly as he'd pushed in, leaving just the tip before he sunk back in, setting a pace of long, slow strokes. It was quite different from the veritable fucking he'd given me yesterday but just as good, maybe better.

He continued like this, sliding in and out of my body, with the warm water cascading down my back and in between us to where we were joined together until my thighs started to shake and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

"Touch yourself, Bella," he told me, his voice strained.

"I…I can't…I'll slip," I choked out as his hips shifted into me and I gasped as the tip of his cock pressed against a wall inside of me, as far as it could go.

"No you won't. I've got you," he tightened his grip around my waist. "Go ahead. I won't let you fall."

I removed my hand from the shower wall and felt down between my legs, taking a second to feel Edward slip against my fingers as he moved in and out before I pressed against my clit with a couple of tight, circular movements. It was only seconds before I felt myself clamp down onto him, releasing a high, breathy moan as a sense of euphoria so intense it was almost painful washed over me. I fought the urge to go limp and I struggled to stay up on my toes, hanging on for Edward while he moved just a bit faster until I felt his strokes become a little more erratic. His fingers dug into my side where they held me up before he was tipped over the edge, releasing himself into me just as the water started to get cold.

He lowered my leg, not letting go until my foot hit the ground and he was sure I was stable, then pulled his softening cock from my body.

"Sorry about that," he said and I turned around to face him, wondering what the hell he could be sorry for.

"What?"

"There's no hot water left and you didn't get to wash your hair yet," he said, shrugging.

"I think I'll live. If you're sorry about anything, you should probably be sorry that you were holding out on me before because that was fucking awesome. I thought I was going to pass out. Congratulations, buddy."

He didn't say anything but I did get one of his full-blown, crinkly-eyed grins. And really, he did look awfully proud of himself.

#WL#

There are few things in the world that I love more than Target. Seriously. When I lived in Seattle, I would go there _all the time_. Part of that might have been poor planning on my shopping list, but I think it may have been a subconscious sort of thing where I purposely didn't plan that well just so I could go back. Unfortunately, my Target options in New York are not as plentiful. I can go to Brooklyn or East Harlem (and I suppose I could have gone over to Jersey, but that was an even bigger hassle than going all the way uptown), and even then, they're "urban" Targets, which I think means they don't really have all the same stuff.

Fortunately, my favorite part of Target, the travel section, was pretty much the same no matter where you went. I mean, have you _seen_ the travel section at Target? It's huge! Anything you could possibly want, you can buy in travel size there. I even loved it before I got this job. I don't know why, but I just love having mini-versions of all of my favorite products. It makes me happy.

Seeing as how my supply has been depleted from the last shoot, I decide I'll take a trip uptown to restock and maybe pay a visit to Alice on the way back. It's still early on Sunday morning, so I take my time in the shower, blushing a bit as I wash my hair and remember what Edward and I were doing in this very spot less than 48 hours ago. I spend almost fifteen minutes making sure my hair is completely dry before I pull on a pair of tight black jeans, a grey hoodie and my black leather bomber jacket. I put on my sunglasses for the walk down to my favorite bakery where I order a caramel macchiato and a savory roll, which is shaped like a cinnamon roll except instead of cinnamon and sugar, it has sundried tomatoes and parmesan cheese. Fucking delicious.

Satisfied with my breakfast choice, I stroll toward the Canal Street subway stop, taking my sweet time to look at the things I live right next to and never get to _really_ look at. I spy a t-shirt in a vintage shop window that has the logo of some old Whiskey company and it looks like something Edward would like so I stop to buy it for him, shoving it into my cross-body bag and figuring I'll just wash it later so it won't matter if it's wrinkled.

By the time I get to the subway entrance, there's only a couple sips left of my coffee so I tip it back and toss it into a wastebasket before I duck underground to catch the 6 uptown. I only have to wait about two minutes before the next train comes by and I'm glad but not surprised to see that it's still early enough that the car isn't terribly crowded. I find a seat and take out my cell phone to play solitaire when I notice that I have a text message from Edward.

_Fight changed, have to cancel dinner. Please forgive me. How about tomorrow? ~E_

I'm a little disappointed that I won't be able to see him tonight but it's not a big deal. I see him pretty much every day anyway. I text him back and hope I've got enough service down here for it to go through.

_Don't worry about it. See you when you get back._ ~_B_

The train pulls into the 116th Street station and I make my way up the stairs, sliding my sunglasses back on to make the short walk over to Target.

I walk in the door and grab a basket. I never grab a cart because a cart is trouble. A cart means buying more things than you can carry home with you and I don't want to have to hire a cab to get back downtown. Even though I came for travel supplies, I make my usual rounds, starting in the clothing section (where I find a pair of leggings that I reason I must buy because they're a staple item) and move into the shoes. I don't find anything too tempting in the shoe section today, so I move onto makeup and beauty and am deciding if I should try out a different kind of bikini wax when my phone rings.

"Hey, Alice," I answer after glancing at the caller ID. "I was just going to call you in a bit. I'm at Target and I thought I'd see if you were home on my way back."

"Oh, cool! Yeah, I'll be here. I was just calling to see what you were up to. Jasper's been at the office for the last couple of days and I'm bored out of my mind. Maybe we can go do something."

"Do what?" When you're dealing with Alice, 'go do something' almost always meant going shopping at a series of couture shops you were sure to feel out of place in.

"Well, there's a pair of shoes I really, _really_ want and I was hoping you'd come look at them with me."

"I'm not really dressed the part, Alice."

"Oh, come on, Bella. You're very New York. You'd never know you weren't local."

"Well, I'm not very midtown then."

"Why do you care? It's not like you look hideous or anything. I just really need your opinion."

"I guess."

"Yes! See you in a bit then?"

I have to admit, it did help that she sounded so happy about my agreeing to go.

"Yeah. I'll call you when I leave here."

I hang up with Alice as I approached the bins of the travel-sized section that ran the full length of an entire aisle. I notice a man with short, sandy blonde hair in a black wool dress coat and slim fitting dark jeans near the end of the aisle. He looks to be concentrating intently on something and I hope he won't be standing there too long – he was kind of blocking some of the bins I needed to look through.

I start at the opposite end of the aisle from the man and begin making my way down, tossing toothpaste, regular shampoo, dry shampoo, hand sanitizer, clothing wrinkle releaser, and generally everything you can think of into my basket. When I reach the opposite end, I see that the man is holding one pack of empty travel bottles in one hand and a different pack in the other. I've had both of those packs before and, since I feel that I could now be considered an expert on this, I decide to offer him some advice in hopes of moving this process along.

"This one is way better," I say, pointing to the one he's holding in his left hand. "The bottles in the other one are too rigid and they crack if you squeeze them too hard or pack them in too tightly."

His head snaps toward me and now that I can see his face straight on, it looks like he's probably about my age if not just a bit older. His eyes are icy blue and the features of his face are sharp, like Edward's but less masculine, gaunter and with a less defined jaw line.

"I take it you have some experience with this?" he asks me in a voice that's a little deeper than I would have expected and with what I would guess is a Russian accent.

"Yeah. I travel all the time. For work, actually. I've learned my lesson on those ones, but take your chances, I guess." I reach in front of him to grab a packet of make-up removing wipes and throw them into my basket when he surprises me by laughing out loud and tossing the bad set back into the bin.

"Well then…" he looks at me with a raised eyebrow and I gather he's asking my name.

"Bella."

"Well, Bella. Thank you for saving my carry-on from certain disaster. Can I take you out for lunch to thank you for your services?"

_Thank me for my services?_ I glance around to make sure no one heard him and gets the wrong idea about me and I'm glad to see there isn't anyone else in the aisle.

"Sorry. I'm busy for lunch."

He looks at me like he's pretty sure I'm lying and I'm somehow compelled to prove to him that I'm not just saying I'm busy to get out of it. I mean, he's nice looking, I suppose, and in the two seconds I've been talking to him, he seems polite enough. Suddenly, I remember that my dinner plans were cancelled.

"I'm free for dinner though."

"Perfect. So am I. Meet me at Lincoln Center at 7:00."

"Lincoln Center?"

"Yes. Just ask for me at the door, I'll let the guard know to expect you. I'm looking forward to it, Bella." He reaches for my hand and lifts it to his lips, stunning me into silence with the sort of strange formality about him. I don't even have a chance to respond before he turns and walks in the other direction.

"Wait!" I call, coming to my senses and realizing I have no idea who to ask for at the door. He halted and turned to look at me. "What's your name? Who should I ask for?"

"Forgive me, Bella. That was rude of me. It's Demetri Chekhov." And with that, he was gone again, striding down the aisle with a sort of fluidity and grace that I can't say I've witnessed on many men before.

#WL#

I get off the train at the Grand Central stop and make my way toward Alice's apartment near Bryant Park. It's lucky for Alice that she's a trust-fund baby because her apartment isn't exactly the type that's usually in the budget of people in their late twenties, or really people of any age, now that I consider it. Alice's mom was an only child and Alice doesn't have any brothers or sisters, so her filthy rich grandpa didn't have anyone to leave it to but her.

The doorman swings open the glass door when I come up the steps and tips his hat at me, just like you'd see in an old movie or a cheesy TV show which was fitting because George could have stepped right out of a TV show.

"Hello, Ms. Swan. How are you today?" I'd actually spent a good amount of time talking to George over the last year, at least when we were in town. Alice was the queen of 'don't bother coming up, I'll be right down' and then taking twenty minutes, giving George and I ample time for small talk. I really liked talking to him – he reminded me a lot of my grandpa.

"I'm good, George. How about yourself? Why're you working on Sunday?"

"Just doin' a favor for Pete since he's coverin' for me next week," George tells me in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"Oh? Going somewhere?"

"Sure am. I've been savin' up for a little vacation for some time and the wife's been watchin' that show of yours and says she wants to go to Key West, so we're going to Florida." When he says Florida, it sounds like 'Flah-ri-dah'. I love it.

"That's awesome, George. You guys will like it, it's pretty chill. About as different from here as you can get."

"That's what I'm hopin' for, little missy. That's what I'm hopin' for. You here to see Ms. Brandon?"

"Sure am. No need to call her though, she knows I'm coming."

George nods and presses a button behind the desk he went and sat behind while we were talking and the elevator dings open. When I get to the third floor and to Alice's door, it's already cracked open. I knock and then stick my head in and see her sitting on the couch in the living room that's just off the foyer. Alice notices the movement and turns her head towards me, he face lighting up in a smile. Her chin-length black hair's been cut short – _really_ short – like a boy almost but with a slightly longer, wavy bit on top that's parted to the side. I'm stunned, mostly because I didn't know she was going to cut it, but partly because she looks absolutely gorgeous. Not only is her hair surprisingly feminine looking, it seems to make her grey eyes pop in a way they hadn't before.

"I hope that look on your face is just one of surprise and not one of shocked disgust," Alice nervously jokes, bringing her fingers up to touch the newly shortened hairs behind her ear.

"No! Wow!" I say stupidly before I gather my wits together. "Alice, you look amazing. I mean, you've always looked good, but…wow!"

"Phew!" Alice says, giggling and fake-wiping her hand across her forehead. "You're the first person to see it. I got it done this morning, but I didn't tell anyone because I didn't really want to be talked out of it."

"It's a good thing you didn't because I probably would have tried, but it's awesome."

"Well, let's just hope Jasper thinks so. We're going out tonight and I'm meeting him at the restaurant so he won't see it until then. That's actually why I wanted to go shopping – I was hoping to get these shoes to go with a new dress I wanted to wear which, if he doesn't like the hair, will hopefully distract him." Alice goes back over to the couch to pull on her knee-high riding style boots over her jeans.

"Actually, I'm glad we're going now," I tell her and she looks back at me and grins while she holds one leg out in front of her, pulling up on the sides of the boot.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I got asked on a date while I was at Target and the guy seemed a little formal. Maybe it was just his accent. I don't know. Anyway, it might be nice to get something new."

"An accent? Oooh – that's hot. What kind of accent?" Alice jumped off the couch and came to stand in front of me.

"I'm not quite sure, but I think Russian."

"Russian?" She frowns for a split second then shrugs her shoulders. "I wasn't really expecting you to say that. I suppose that could be hot though. What does he look like?"

"He was pretty cute, I guess. In a sort of Legolas without the long hair or pointy ears kind of way. And no elf clothes. Obviously." I plopped my Target bag down on the foyer table next to the coat closet so I would be sure to remember it on my way home.

Alice shook her head and laughed at me. "Normally, since I'm not a huge Lord of the Rings nerd like you, I wouldn't know what you mean, but in this case, I think I get it. What's not-an-elf-Legolas' name?"

"Demetri Chekhov," I tell her, imitating his voice while I dig through the Target bag for the pack of M&Ms I threw in at the last minute. I finally find them and hold them up triumphantly in my hand and spin back around. "I got these for use to share…what?"

Alice is frozen in her spot, staring at me like she's seen a ghost or maybe like I have horns growing out of my head.

"Is that a look of surprise or shocking disgust?" I ask her, tossing her words from earlier back at her.

"Demetri Chekhov?" she asks, disbelief dripping from her voice.

"Yeah. Why?"

She turns on her heel and goes into her kitchen, coming back seconds later with a flyer that she shoves into my hand. It's a program for the New York City Ballet and right there on the cover, in costume and holding a ballerina in the air, is the guy I met at Target.

"As in _this_ Demetri Chekhov?" Alice points down at the pamphlet in my hand. "As in, listed in People magazine's sexiest men alive last year, Demetri Chekhov?"

_Holy fuck_. _How did I not know about this? I actually go to some of these ballet things with Alice. _

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, that's the guy I met."

"What?" Alice shrieks. "What the fuck was Demetri Chekhov doing at Target?"

"Hey! Target is awesome. You can get good stuff there, I'll have you know." My comments fall on deaf ears because Alice looks like she's calculating something and her brain's about to explode.

"When are you meeting him?"

"Seven o'clock."

"We better hurry, then," she grabs her purse, grabs my hand, pulls me out the door and we're off.

* * *

><p><strong>Next up, Bella's date with Demetri and Edward returns from Seattle. Also, the gang leaves on the first leg of their trip!<strong>

**Review and let me know what you're thinking!**

**L.A.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! If you're still reading this, I can't thank you enough for being interested in this story! I'm sorry that this chapter is being posted a little late. My goal was to post them a little earlier on Sundays, but I got a bit held up. I know I said that they'd be leaving on their trip in this chapter, but we didn't quite get there yet. I should probably just stop trying to project what's going to happen next because every time I sit down to write on this story, it sort of takes on a mind of its own.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! No promises, but I'm going to try to get out another chapter this week since I might be gone a good portion of next weekend.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters and no copyright infringement is intended. I do, however, own the plot of this derivative work. This story is rated M and is not intended for readers under 18. **

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 3<p>

One of the things I love the most about New York is that there are a ton of stores where the clothes are really cheap. I didn't think it would be like that when I moved from Seattle – I had the perception that if you wanted to be fashionable in New York, you had to spend a lot of money. Money wasn't something I had a lot of when I first came here and even now that the show had been picked up by the network, it's not like I was filthy rich. I'd splurged on one lingerie set (which was still awaiting its chance to be worn) and a pair of black peep-toe pumps that, even now, cost more money than I like to think about. Alice had convinced me that I'd get enough use out of them and I really did wear them quite a bit.

I lucked out on Canal Street after I convinced Alice to come down there with me. We'd checked out her shoes which really were pretty great (let's face it, Alice doesn't usually try on anything she isn't 99.9% sure will look great) and browsed a few of the shops up in her neck of the woods before we went back to her apartment to grab my Target bags and then took a cab downtown. I found a dress in one of my favorite shops that was snug fitting, ending just below my knees, with only one shoulder. It was made out of a silky, crimson fabric and the skirt gathered slightly at the waist.

When we get back to my apartment, Alice crashes on my bed while I pulled my afore mentioned expensive high heels from their slot in the hanging shoe organizer and set them on the floor below where I've hung up the dress.

"You're being awfully calm for someone who's going on a date with one of the 'sexiest men alive'." Alice says, making air quotes around that last part.

"I'm trying not to think about it," I tell her and it isn't a lie –it's something I could have done without knowing, at least before this first date. "I don't want to psych myself out. Besides, he was cute, but I know guys that are better looking. At least, in my opinion they are."

"Like who?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, Edward's better looking than this guy."

Alice scoffs. "Pfft. I don't know about that."

I shrug then go over to my jewelry box to choose some earrings. I have a pair with just a couple of long strands of black jewels that will go nicely with the rest of the outfit; it's just a matter of finding them in the chaos inside the box.

"Bella? Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what is it?" I keep digging through the jewelry box, trying to find the second earring.

"Are you and Edward…involved?"

My eyebrows shoot up and I'm glad that I'm facing away from her to give me a second to compose myself. Edward and I haven't exactly disclosed the details of our little arrangement to the rest of the group and I'm not sure what to say now. I don't really want to lie to Alice, but it almost seems worse to tell her anything without knowing how Edward would feel about that first. So, I go with my gut instinct and dodge the truth.

"Are Edward and I involved? No. He's my best friend. We spend a lot of time together. I can see how people might get confused." I set a smile on my face and turn to look at Alice who isn't even looking toward me. Her lips are downturned in a slight frown and she seems to be kind of staring into space.

Alice's phone alerts her to a new text message and snaps her out of her trance. She glances at it for a second before she looks back to me and the frown that disappeared from her face has been replaced with a smile, but it seems forced. I have a feeling she knows I'm lying to her and it seems odd that she hasn't called me out.

"I should probably take off. Jasper's coming home for dinner and I don't even know what I'm going to make yet. Call me and tell me about the date?" She stands and gathers her shopping bags before she moves toward the front door.

"Sure. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright. Have a good time and be careful being out by yourself."

"Yes, mother," I tell her, rolling my eyes. I hug her goodbye and unlock the deadbolt and chain for her.

When I get back to my room, the first thing my eyes land on is the laundry hamper in the corner between the wall and my tall dresser. It's got a few things that I wore over the last few days in it – the stuff that I used after the big laundry marathon last week. But that's not all it has. Lying right on top, over a few pairs of lacy red underwear, is a grey t-shirt with a white screen print outline of the Space Needle on it, but the bottom of the drawing looks like tree roots. Edward flung it in a frenzy to remove clothing a few days ago and it got kicked under my bed. He couldn't find it when he went to get dressed again and ended up putting his hoodie back on with nothing underneath it. I missed it when I was bringing down the laundry and wouldn't have found it if I hadn't lifted the dust ruffle to pull out my second suitcase.

The shirt is one of Edward's favorites and everybody knows it. I guess I know what Alice was looking at when I thought she was spacing out. And, based on her question, I guess she's got a pretty good idea of why Edward's clothes are sitting in my hamper.

Yep. She definitely knew I was lying.

#WL#

I decide to take a cab to Lincoln Center rather than riding the subway. I've worn heels enough in the past few years that I'm not a total klutz in them but it is still winter, there are still some icy spots on the sidewalk and if you consider the platform, these shoes have four inch heels and I'm not particularly interested in walking too terribly far in them.

I walk past the fountain in the plaza in front of the performance centers and in the front doors of the Koch Theater. It occurs to me that I should be thankful Alice made me go to the ballet with her and that she recognized Demetri's name or else I wouldn't have known which performance hall to meet him at because he's not waiting for me out here.

The lobby is deserted, but I'm not surprised since there isn't a performance going on tonight. I spot an elderly man sitting at the coat check desk and make my way over to him. He's wearing a blazer and a name tag that says "Frank". He's reading a book and starts a little when I finally reach the desk – I hope he's not expected to be any sort of security if it takes him that long to notice that someone's come in.

"Hello, ma'am," he greets me with a wide grin. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to meet Demetri Chekhov."

"Alright," he says, picking up the receiver of a black phone on his desk and beginning to dial with shaking, arthritic fingers, "let me just call back stage and let them know."

The old man announces my presence to whomever he reaches on the other side of the line as I take a seat on a bench just next to his desk. He sounds very cheery as he speaks and I smile to myself listening to him. I can't imagine ever being that happy to be at work on a Sunday night, especially at this age, but it's nice that he is. I don't feel like I run into a lot of cheerful people in this city, so it's kind of refreshing.

"Thank you," I tell him when I hear him hang up the phone.

"You're welcome. You going out for a fancy dinner?"

"Well, I don't know," I tell him honestly. I have no idea where Demetri will want to go. I just assumed it wouldn't be a random burger joint, but now that I'm being asked, I hope I'm not severely overdressed. "My date hasn't said where we're going."

"Oh! It's a surprise then?" He looks genuinely interested.

"Well, I suppose it is for me, although I don't think it was really meant like that."

Just then, a door a bit further down the hall swings open and Demetri emerges along with three women who I'm sure are ballerinas. They're each slender with hair pulled back tightly from their faces, each holding some type of workout bag over their shoulder. None of them are particularly tall and with the three of them surrounding Demetri, it gives the illusion that he's taller than he actually is.

"Thanks for your help, Frank," I say, smiling at the old man. "Have a good night."

"You too, ma'am," he says and picks his book up again.

I stand and smooth down the back of my dress then re-adjust my purse strap on my shoulder. The women part ways with Demetri, each giving him a peck on each cheek before turning to leave and Demetri stays where he is as I walk toward him. At first I think he's dressed in almost the same outfit as he was earlier today when I met him at Target, but when I get closer, I see that his black jeans have been traded for black dress slacks and the white t-shirt has been replaced by a white button-up shirt. I can see how women find him attractive – he's certainly not ugly. Just maybe a little more 'metrosexual' than I'm used to. I don't really know any other way to say it.

"Hi," I greet him and he finally comes toward me and gives me the same peck on each cheek that the women just did.

"Bella. I'm glad you're here on time," he says and it seems like kind of a weird thing to say. "I'm absolutely famished." He holds his arm out and I take it, relishing in this bit of chivalry that I'm not used to before I address his first comment.

"Did I seem like someone who wouldn't be on time?" I ask, chuckling a bit to conceal the fact that I'm not sure if I should be offended. I'm having to hustle a bit to keep up with his quick steps but it's not too bad – I have to walk quickly to keep up with Edward but that's only because he's so much taller than I am.

"Possibly. I find that many women like to keep men waiting to try to build up anticipation. I just find it irritating." His tone is so serious that I decide it's probably not a good way to start off the date if I point out that I was actually waiting for him for about ten minutes past our agreed upon time.

"So, where are we going?"

"To Lincoln. Do you know it?"

"Yes," I tell him as we walk up to the entrance of the restaurant. It's at Lincoln Center, just over by the reflecting pool. I've not been, but I know it's relatively expensive so I'm glad I dressed up a bit. "Well, I know of it but I've never gone there."

He holds the door open for me and the hostess lights up when she sees him.

"Mr. Chekhov, how are you tonight?"

"Fine." His reply is short and he nods at her. It's not the warmest greeting ever, but the hostess doesn't seem to notice and is bubbly as ever.

"I've got your table ready. Right this way." She turns on her heel and heads through the crowd of tables.

Demetri motions for me to go ahead and I follow her to a table in the middle of the dining room, right next to the floor to ceiling wall of windows that surround the restaurant. The decoration is simple, with clean, modern lines and an open kitchen where I can see the sous chefs rapidly working on plating food. It's pretty, but the draw is clearly the wide open view over the reflecting pool and the rest of the center.

We take out seats and the hostess hands us each menus and what I'm assuming is a wine list to Demetri.

"Do you come here a lot?" I ask him, even though the fact that the hostess knew him should be my answer. He doesn't seem to be a very talkative guy, so I figure I may as well start a little conversation.

"Off and on," he says, glancing down at the menu. He doesn't continue, but I let it slide. He might be one of those people who're a little grumpy when they're hungry. I examine the menu to see what I want. It's Italian and that's one of my favorites so there are a few things that sound pretty good to me.

When the waiter comes over, he greets us both and asks if we'd like an appetizer or a drink.

"We'll have the crudo di tonno to start and a bottle of the Renato Corino," Demetri tells the waiter, putting down his menu with an air of finality.

Okay - it's fine if he wants to be a little quiet or even take the lead, but I don't need him to order for me, particularly without asking me.

"Actually, I'd like the insalata di funghi," I tell the waiter, handing him my menu then looking right at Demetri. "I don't like fish."

Demetri is staring at me with a strange sort of confused look on his face and I'm not sure if he's angry with me or not. Then, just like he did in the travel-size section at Target, he barks out a laugh.

"You speak Italian?" he asks, taking a sip from his water.

"I took it in college. I know enough to know that 'tonno' is tuna."

"Well, I like a girl who knows enough to know what she wants."

We order what we'd like for the main course and the waiter goes off to get our wine. I don't drink wine much and don't really prefer it, but the type Demetri ordered is good and he tells me a bit about where it's made and how it's his favorite type. I'm on my second glass before I even finish my salad.

Our entrees come and the lamb ravioli I've ordered is so amazing that the lags in conversation here and there don't feel so awkward since I'm busy stuffing my face with my dinner - in as ladylike a manner as possible, that is.

"So, Bella," Demetri asks while he cuts his steak into bite-sized pieces, "what is it that you do that makes you such an expert on travel shampoo bottles?"

"I host a show on the Travel Network called 'The (Not-So) Lost Girl'. Have you heard of it?"

He shakes his head. "I don't watch television. Why is that the title? Do they lose you and then find you again?" he smiles, teasing me.

"Well, no." I blush a little. "It's a play on the title of the D.H. Lawrence book. The show is mostly about traveling to places and doing things a little outside of the usual tourist stuff. Actually, I'm starting another project in a couple of days. We had an episode where we did a road trip down Route 66 and it was really popular so the network picked us to do the same thing, just in other countries."

"And where will you be going on this road trip?"

"Ireland, India and New Zealand," I list off.

"They seem a little disconnected. What's the reasoning for those countries?" he asks and I laugh.

"That's exactly what Edward said! I guess those countries are the most popular with the viewers."

"Edward?"

"Oh. Edward is my best friend. He's also the cameraman on the show. He does really beautiful work; you should really watch the show sometime."

"Your best friend is a man?" he cocks his eyebrow at me.

"Yes." I'm not surprised he's questioning this – I find that more people than you'd think find a man and a woman being best friends to be abnormal, particularly when they find out that both are straight.

"Does he…prefer the company of men?"

And there it is. "No. I've known him since high school," I say, as though that were an explanation. I don't really have an explanation, Edward and I just work. I decide to change the subject. "So, you're a dancer?"

"I am," he nods. "Although, I am not dancing now. I'm the principle choreographer on the production I am currently working on and will be doing the same in London in a few weeks."

He goes on to tell me about how he began in ballet (both of his parents were dancers in St. Petersburg), his upbringing and training in Paris and his subsequent move to New York to join the New York City Ballet. It was like the flood gates had been opened and he just went on and on. Dance – ballet – was clearly his passion and I had no doubt that this wasn't something he'd been forced into by his parents, but did because he loved it.

When we were finished, Demetri paid for dinner and teased me about my offer to pay for myself.

"What kind of man would I be if I asked you out and didn't pay?" he asked as we walked into the frigid January night.

"I don't know. I'm just used to taking care of myself and it always makes me a little uncomfortable when people pay for me." I explain while we walk toward 65th street. I'm feeling a little unstable on my heels – I definitely drank a little too much wine.

"Well, I hope you can get past that because when we go out next time, it will happen again," he says and holds his arm out to signal a taxi. "Where do you live?" Demetri asks, and I wonder if he's trying to continue the date to the next level, so to speak.

"Downtown."

He nods and hands the driver a wad of cash.

"I enjoyed your company very much, Bella," he says, taking my gloved hand in his own. "Can I see you again before you leave?"

"Um…yeah," I tell him, "sure." I'm a little stunned that we're ending this now. I'm not necessarily disappointed though. I am pretty tired, and the fact that he's not trying to get into my pants or my bed right away is kind of refreshing. Not that I'd remember what it's like to have someone try, considering my last real date was over a year ago.

"Great. Give me your phone number, I'll call you tomorrow."

I give him my phone number and he types it into his phone then kisses me on the cheek, this time with more intent than the two-cheek greeting from earlier. I duck into the cab and he closes the door behind me, nods and turns to walk in the other direction.

I relax into the seat and think back on the date while I watch the buildings go by. I'm not quite sure what to think of Demetri. He seems a little aloof, but that might just be a cultural thing. He's certainly formal and I'm alright with that. It's just different from what I'm used to.

My purse vibrates in the pocket where I've got my phone and I pull it out to be greeted by a picture of Edward, covered from head to toe in flour after having been the victim of a surprise 'antiquing' attack by Jasper and Emmett. I smile and slide my finger across the screen to answer.

"Hey," I say quietly into the phone, feeling the effects of the half bottle of wine I drank at dinner tonight coupled with the warm air in the heated cab.

"Hey, Blackbird. I'm back. The flight came in a little earlier than I expected." Edward's velvet voice answers. "I'm sorry I missed dinner. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I'm in a cab on my way home."

"Do you want to watch TV or something?"

My eyes feel heavy and my head is a little foggy, but I miss him.

"Yeah. I'll be over in a few minutes."

I hang up and lean forward to talk to the driver.

"Slight change of plans," I tell him and give him Edward's address.

When we pull up to Edward's apartment, I slam the cab door and I see Edward look out from his third floor window. He grins at me and waves and then disappears to buzz me in.

I swing open the lobby door when I hear the buzzing noise and take the elevator to the third floor. I don't trust myself to walk up that many flights in these high heels right now. Edward is waiting at his door when the elevator doors slide open and I just go right to him and into his open arms for a hug.

"You know, you don't have to get all dressed up to impress me," he teases, releasing me from his grasp.

"I was on a date." I tell him, stepping out of my high heels and setting them next to Edward's pile of sneakers.

"A date?" he asks, taking a step back from me.

"Why're you surprised?" I ask, holding my hand out to steady myself against the wall. "Boys like me you know."

"I know that boys like you, Bella. Believe me, I know." Edward runs his hand through his hair, all the way from the front to back. "So, do you like this guy you saw tonight?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Are you going to see him again?"

"Yeah, he asked me to go out with him again before we leave. He's a ballet dancer and Alice says he's one of the sexiest men alive. Well, the magazine says that. Alice just told me it said that."

Edward mutters something I can't understand, but when I ask, he just says, "You look like you need to lie down."

I nod and take his outstretched hand. I sit on Edward's bed while he pulls a t-shirt out of his dresser and comes back over to pull me back up to standing. His hands reach around my back and he unzips my dress so the silky crimson fabric pools at my feet. I sit back down and look up at him. He smiles down at me, but it's not one of Edward's happy smiles. For some reason, this one is a little sad.

I lift my arms and he pulls his t-shirt over my head. I'm enveloped in his smell as the fabric passes down over my face and I crawl under the covers where he holds the comforter back for me.

Edward pulls the shirt he's wearing over his head and discards it in the pile in the corner then unbuttons his jeans, steps out of them, and lays down on top of the covers in just his boxers and socks. He grabs the TV changer and is flicking through the channels.

I turn on my side and look at his profile in the glow from the television. The stubble along his jaw is heavy enough now that it could probably be called a beard and it softens the sharp lines of his face. His eyelashes cast a shadow against his straight, aquiline nose every time he blinks. Even with the slight scowl he has on his face right now, he really is beautiful, even if he probably wouldn't like to hear me say that.

I reach out and put my hand on his bicep, fighting to keep my eyes open for a few seconds longer.

"Edward?"

He turns to look at me, waiting for me to speak, his chest moving slowly up and down with his breath.

"I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

His face softens just a bit and he gives me another sad smile. "I missed you too, Blackbird. I always miss you when I'm gone. You know that."

He turns back to the TV and I close my eyes and let myself drift off, feeling the warmth of his skin under my hand and breathing in his smell on the pillow under my head.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry there was no lemon and that there is some angst here. Truly. I love a good lemon as much as the next person, but the goal of this story wasn't to be PWP, so there's got to be some story building somewhere. I promise, as this story goes on, there will be no lack of lemons.<strong>

**Please review and let me know what you thought – I love hearing from you so much, I can't even tell you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! I hope all of those who celebrate it had a merry Christmas! I know I did, but it's also what kept me away from this for longer than I'd have liked!**

**Thank you to all of you who have reviewed each time you read - it makes my day to hear what you think. Thanks also to any of you who have put this story on story alert or added this story to your favorites list. I'm beyond pleased that you like this. I'd love to hear what you think, even if it's just a simple 'I liked it' or 'that was terrible'!**

**As a recap, Bella went out with Demetri and went to visit Edward afterward, who didn't seem very pleased about her date. **

**Any with that - we're off to the airport...**

* * *

><p>No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not intended for readers under the age of 18.<p>

* * *

><p>WANDERLUST - CHAPTER 4<p>

Have you ever had a really hot, steamy sex dream? You know, the kind where it's so real, it's like you can feel the heat between your body and his, the ripple of his muscles as he moves above you? The kind that leaves you panting and waking up with heart palpitations, wanting to kill your alarm because the last thing anybody wants to do after sex like that, real or otherwise, is get up and go to work? I've never admitted it to anyone, but I have dreams like that about Edward. I have them pretty often, too. I think, probably, the reason they're so life-like is because I actually know what it's like to have sex with Edward. But there is one part of the dream that's fabricated. It's the part that sucks the breath out of my lungs and makes my heart flutter and the part that disappoints me the most if I wake up before it happens. It's the part where we kiss.

Perhaps I should explain. When Edward and I started this whole friends-with-benefits thing, we decided there'd be no kissing on the lips. Maybe it was stupid, and maybe it was backwards, but kissing seemed too serious to me and somehow even more intimate than the act of sex itself. It wasn't a means to an end the way sex was.

Edward and I had been engaging in illicit meetings here and there for about four months before I had the first dream. It started out as a sort of carbon copy of a random time that I'd gone over to Edward's apartment to play FIFA and ended up naked and underneath him on the shaggy black rug that covers the hardwood floor in his living room. At first, the dream followed reality so closely that it was almost more of a memory than a dream. There wasn't anything particularly interesting about it – I gripped Edward's ass as he lay between my legs, thrusting his pelvis against my own while he closed his emerald eyes shut, trying to hold out until he could make me come. It was just like it had happened in real life – until it wasn't.

In real life, I moved my hand between us, giving myself that extra push to the finish. Edward followed closely behind me, and that was it. We got dressed again, picked up our controllers and had a penalty kick competition. Satisfying, even if it wasn't too exciting. But in the dream, Edward opens his eyes, smiles at me, and leans down to press his lips against mine. I move my hands up his back and into his hair, pressing his face against mine as he runs his tongue along my lower lip and into my mouth until I gasp against his lips and fall into oblivion.

I've felt Edward's lips on my cheek, on my forehead, along my neck and collarbone and in places that make me blush to think about. Nobody knows this, but there are few things I'd like more than to just feel his lips against my own. I know I don't act like it, and I have my reasons for that.

Edward isn't shy about what he wants in a relationship, or at least he hasn't been in the past. Even in high school, when I didn't know him that well, I remember how confident he was with girls. If he wants to ask someone out, he asks them out. Hell, if he wants to be friends with benefits he just puts it out there. He's never asked me for more than that, so I have no reason to think he wants more and I keep my options open. I flirt with guys here and there. I accept dates when I'm asked. I'm afraid that if I don't, someday Edward will find someone and I won't even have this pseudo-relationship. I'll just be alone and I don't want to be alone. I've spent enough of my life doing it that I know it's not for me.

We promised we'd tell each other if things "got weird" because our friendship was more important than anything else. Scratching an itch wasn't worth the risk, so if we were going to do it, we had to be honest with each other. But I swear, I didn't even realize it happening. And then, one day, it was just too late.

So, I ignore the part of me that could fall in love with Edward, and maybe already has. Because, you know, the only thing worse than being alone is being in love alone. And really, pretending you're not in love is much easier than you'd think. I've even got myself believing it. Almost.

#WL#

I sleep in until almost noon the next morning and Edward's not there when I wake up. He left a note that he's gone to Emmett's to watch some soccer game they've been looking forward to and I can just lock the door on my way out.

My dress is draped over the chair in the corner of the room and I roll out of bed to go get it. I pull Edward's t-shirt over my head and realize that my bra's still on. I hate sleeping with it on, so I must have been more tired than I thought if I didn't notice. I throw the t-shirt into the hamper in Edward's closet and put my dress back on then decide I should make the bed. Edward doesn't usually make his bed, but it might be nice of me to do it for him. For a second, I even think of changing his sheets for him, but then I realize that he'll only be sleeping here one more night before we leave, so it probably isn't worth it.

Once the covers are smoothed and the pillows are fluffed and arranged (not that they could be that impressive, there's only two), I walk out through the living room to the entry way and step into my shoes. My coat's hanging on the hook behind the door and I find my purse hanging underneath it so I dig through it to find my phone before slinging it over my shoulder. I go outside and lock the door behind me and take the stairs on the stoop carefully – it's absolutely freezing today and they're still frosty half way through the day. Despite the cold, it's not worth taking the train – Edward only lives ten blocks from me.

Once I'm safely on the level sidewalk, I begin my trek toward home, ignoring the 'walk-of-shame' looks I'm getting from people I pass and look down at the screen of my phone. I've got two missed calls – one from my mom and another from a number I don't recognize. Mom didn't leave a message, but I'm not surprised. She just expects me to call her back so she rarely bothers. The other person did leave a message and I never get calls from numbers I don't recognize, so I'm guessing it's Demetri. I press play and when message starts up and I'm right, it is him. He's calling to tell me that he won't be able to go out tonight – he needs to stay late for rehearsal – but he had a good time last night and wants me to call him when I get back from the first leg of filming. I really should be making sure everything's ready to go and just kind of lying low tonight anyway, so the cancellation doesn't upset me much.

I go to my favorites screen and choose Edward's number from the top of the list. The phone rings and rings and finally goes to voicemail.

"_You've reached Edward Cullen. Please leave a message and I'll call you back when I can."_

"Hey, Edward. It's me," I say as I come up to the stairs to my own building. "I'm sorry I was so boring last night. Want to come over for dinner? I'm just hanging out, going over my packing checklist one more time. Anyway, call me back, okay?"

I end the call and make my way up to my apartment. Once I'm inside, I strip off my dress immediately and head right for the bathroom. Not taking a shower for over twenty four hours tends to make me feel pretty disgusting and I rush right past the mirror because I don't even want to know how gross I must have looked trekking down the street.

When I'm done in the shower, I check my phone for messages but Edward hasn't called back yet. I go back to the bathroom to take the towel off my head, decide to let my hair air dry so it will be wavy and put on a coat of mascara in case I have to go out again even though I will probably just order delivery tonight. My lengthy packing checklist is sitting on my dining table and after turning on the TV, I drag my suitcases into the living room to go over their contents. Like I said before, I tend to over-pack and this time is no exception. I've got enough t-shirts to last me a month, a few dresses, jeans in four different colors and so many pairs of panties, you could open a traveling lingerie shop out of my bag. Now I just need to get all my toiletries together, which I always save for last. Makeup, shampoo, hairbrush. Check, check, check. Did I mention that I love checklists? They're just so satisfying. Visual validation of having completed your chores. I love it.

I go through my bathroom drawers, throwing things that I must bring into my spill-proof bag and debating over things I could probably just buy there and save the packing space. Of course, I make sure all my travel-size things are already in here – I didn't go all the way to Target uptown for nothing. Tampons? Yes. I should bring those. You never know what kind they'll have in foreign countries. I'm due for that next week and even though I'm sure the ones in Ireland are just fine, period time is not the time to fuck around with your favorites. I stop when I see a strip of condoms next to the box of tampons. Edward left those here a few months ago after he dubbed me the worst condom buyer ever. I had picked out a new type that was supposed to have a fancy shape ('for her pleasure', of course) and some sort of lube that was supposed to be warming but, unfortunately, upon contact made my lady bits feel like they were on fire and definitely not in a good way. And that was after the first one ripped. Edward said the only thing that would make them worse is if they just poked holes in them for us.

Speaking of Edward, it's been a couple of hours since I started going over my checklist and he still hasn't called me. I don't want to be a pest, but I'll probably order dinner around five or so and that's only about an hour away. I pick up my phone and hit his name on the list. Just when I think it's going to go to voicemail again, he picks up.

"Hey, Bella." His voice sounds tired.

"Hey – are you okay? You don't sound…normal. Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind," he sighs.

"'Yeah', you got my message or 'yeah', you're alright?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Oh. Well, you seemed kind of sad last night and now you just sound kind of tired. I just wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight? Nothing fancy, I'm just ordering in. I'm thinking something middle-eastern."

He hesitates.

"I'll give you a minute to decide. I know that the choice between shawarma and falafel is always a hard one for you," I joke.

"Actually, I think I'm just going to stay in tonight. I need a little time to myself, Bella. To think about things."

Now it's my turn to hesitate. Think about things? This does not bode well.

"Things?" I hedge, prodding him to tell me more.

"I don't really want to talk about it. At least not right now," he says, his deep voice is soft, but serious.

"Edward, I'm not inviting you over for sex, if that's what you think," I blurt out. I know it wasn't the right thing to say, or even very sensitive, but I have a sort of burgeoning panic in the pit of my stomach.

"Look, Bella, I just…I need to make some choices, okay? And I need to make sure I'm making the right ones. I'll see you tomorrow."

He doesn't even wait for me to say goodbye before he hangs up. It occurs to me that he called me 'Bella' throughout the entire conversation. He calls me that off and on, but I don't think we've been through a conversation where he hasn't called me Blackbird for at least a year.

I shove the take-out menu I had in my hand back into the drawer in the kitchen. I'm not hungry anymore.

#WL#

The weather the next morning matches my mood. Freezing rain pelts my window pane with an intensity we haven't seen most of this winter and the low hanging clouds cloak the city in a grayness that doesn't look like it'll go away anytime soon.

I didn't sleep well last night, which sucks because it was my last night in my glorious bed before I'll be relegated to two weeks' worth of lumpy hotel mattresses and RV bunks. I just couldn't stop thinking about my conversation with Edward. Or maybe worrying would be a more appropriate way to describe what I was doing. The fact that he wouldn't elaborate on what 'things' he needed to think about made me think it probably had something to do with me. He would have told me otherwise – wouldn't he? And even then, why couldn't he just tell me?

A glance at my clock tells me that I've got about two hours to be at the airport, so I roll out of bed and into the bathroom where I wash my hair, dry it and put on my makeup before I take my makeup bag and blow dryer and zip them into the smaller suitcase in the living room. They were the last things on my checklist, which is still sitting on the dining table, and I check them off even though I know it's all done. I make a run around the apartment, checking the windows are locked and drawing the curtains, unplugging things that don't need to be plugged in. The last thing I grab is the trip itinerary binder and my purse. I'll have a solid seven hours of nothing to do on the plane and I've never been great at falling asleep on airplanes, so I'll be able to review the binder again and make sure I know our schedule as well as possible.

I zip up my black hoodie, raise the hood over my head and slip my black leather jacket over it. I check that my phone and passport are in the front pocket of my purse, raise the handles on my suitcases and roll them out the door. Outside, I flag down the first cab that passes. I've learned the hard way that paying for a cab is worth the money – dragging your luggage through the subway is the definition of a pain in the ass. I signal the driver to pop the trunk and heave my bags into it before slamming it closed.

"Where to ma'am?" the driver asks as I slide into the back seat.

"JFK."

He pulls into traffic and I stare out the window, watching people scurry along a little faster than normal, probably trying to get out of the rain as quickly as they can.

"Where are you off to this morning?" I look up and the cabbie is glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

Sometimes I like the chatty ones. Today is not one of those days.

"Ireland."

"You don't seem very excited." He winks at me in the mirror.

"It's for work, so it won't really be a vacation or anything," I tell him.

"Still. Just about the furthest place I ever get to go for work is the Bronx."

I laugh out loud at that. "You're right. It'll be fun. I'm just a little pre-occupied, I guess."

He doesn't say much else on the way out to Queens, just asking me when I moved to New York and if I'm liking it. He, on the other hand, was born and raised in Queens. I think people who are actually from New York have some kind of sixth sense about who's a transplant because I definitely didn't tell him I wasn't from here, and as far as I can tell, I haven't said anything glaringly obvious to give myself away.

When we pull up to departures at JFK, I pay the driver and leave him a pretty good tip and he tells me to cheer up. Easier said than done, buddy. I can't shake the sense of dread I feel waiting to hear the results of what Edward is 'thinking' about.

I'm about half-way to the sliding doors when I feel a hand grab onto my luggage handle and I panic, ready to swing around and beat them with my purse until they let go when I see that it's Emmett. He's got three messenger bags hanging off of him and is already pulling an absolutely gigantic suitcase behind him while Rose trails along with carry-on size rolling case.

"Let me carry that for you," Emmett says, prying my fingers from the handle and giving me one of his dimpled smiles.

"Emmett! I thought you were trying to steal it. I almost beat you with my purse." I reluctantly step away from the bag and readjust my hold on the smaller one.

"Don't worry about it. It wouldn't have hurt. I've got protection." He motions to the stuffed messenger bags surrounding his torso.

"I can take it myself, Emmett. You've got a ton of stuff already."

"He likes to show the other men how much he can carry," Rose jokes as she wheels her bag up next to him. "You're doing him a favor."

"Nah, baby. You guys are just too slow and we can move along much quicker if I carry it for you," he tells her. He's right – Rose and I practically run to follow after him, weaving through the heavy morning crowd to make it over to the baggage check line.

We check our bags quickly and then stop for a coffee and a bagel at a café on our way to the international terminal. We've still got almost an hour until boarding, so we take our time and look through one of the bookshops and I pick up a couple of trashy gossip magazines for the plane ride. When we get to the security check there's a bigger line than we would have expected and we slip out of our shoes, turn on our laptops and basically do the whole drill as quickly as possible. While I put my rings and necklace into a plastic bowl and send it through the x-ray, my eye catches a flash of bronze on the other side of the check-point. Edward is there, in his socks and dressed in worn blue jeans and a plain v-neck white t-shirt, arms out to the side as a female guard runs her wand around the perimeter of his lean body. I smile at the sight of him, if involuntarily, even though he looks like he's losing his patience. I see the guard motion toward his belt and he gives her a look before taking it off, causing his jeans to slip a little lower on his hips and just barely exposing the waistband of his boxer-briefs once his arms are raised again. She runs the wand around him again with an absolutely priceless look on her face – she's clearly enjoying this.

"Ma'am! Keep it moving," the guard in my line barks at me and I snap out of it, and move through the line without incident. Edward is still being frisked when Emmett comes through the line and says we should get to the gate, not to worry about Edward.

But when we get there, almost half the plane has boarded and I am worried.

"I think we should wait for him," I say as Emmett tries to coax me onto the plane. Rose has already gone down the walkway to board.

"Just get on the plane, Bella. He'll be fine. He's only a couple of minutes behind, they won't leave without him." He puts his large hand on the small of my back and tries to move me along.

"We should tell someone he's coming, don't you think? I think we should tell someone," I resist.

Emmett sighs. "I'll wait for him. Okay?"

I eye Emmett suspiciously, but hand the attendant my ticket and make my way down the gate and onto the plane. The plane has three seats on either side of the aisle and I immediately spot Jasper sitting in a window seat with two empty seats beside him. I wheel my carry-on down to his row and stop beside him, glancing at my ticket. This isn't my row, I'm considerably further back.

"Where's Alice?" I ask and he starts a bit, turning to look at me.

"Oh – she's back there with Rose," he motions toward the back of the plane. "Edward and I have some things to go over as far as principle photography and we figured the next seven hours are as good a time to do it as any. Alice offered to switch seats with him."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll see you later then," I say. Great. Another seven hours before I'll get to talk to Edward and find out what's got him acting strangely. Although, an airplane isn't exactly the ideal place for private conversations so I suppose he might not have said anything anyway.

When I reach my assigned row, Alice is in the window seat and Rose is in the aisle seat. Awesome. I get to be in the middle. This day keeps getting better and better. I struggle to shove my carry-on in the overhead bins and finally get it in when Rose stands up to help me.

"You do realize that part of sitting in the window seat means you have to be my human pillow if I fall asleep?" I ask Alice.

"Whatever. You have to be Rose's pillow," Alice points out while I pull out my magazines and begin flipping though them.

The flight attendants begin moving down the aisles, checking to see that all of the overhead bins are closed and I stand a little in my seat to try to see if Edward and Emmett made it on, but I've lost track of their row and I'm not tall enough to see it.

"I saw them getting on while you were shoving your carry-on up there," Rose says, guessing what I'm looking for.

"Okay, good. I was worried they wouldn't make it."

"What's with you today?" Rose asks. "You're so nervous. I'd say you shouldn't have had that coffee, but you seemed a little off from the get go."

"I'm just anxious," I tell her, not elaborating.

"About what?" Alice asks. "I know you're not afraid of flying."

"Well, Edward's acting a little…different. And it's come on a little suddenly."

They exchange a look. "Different. Different, how?" Rose asks.

"Well, I saw him after I went out with Demetri, the night he got home, you know?"

They nod.

"And he was just…less happy than usual. He seemed kind of depressed, maybe. And when I invited him over for dinner last night, he said he would pass because he had some things he had to think about. He wouldn't tell me what though."

Neither of them says anything at first, and then, Alice gives the smallest, imperceptible nod to Rose, who takes a deep breath.

"Bella, I think you should know something." She looks like she's about to tell me that someone is dying and I realize I'm holding my breath in anticipation. "We know about you and Edward."

My first instinct is to play stupid. "Know what?"

"You know what I mean. We know you're sleeping together." Rose says, a look of annoyance crossing her face.

I move on to denying it, since playing stupid didn't work. "We're sleeping together? No we're not." Any good liar knows that the key to a good lie is to repeat the accusation like it's crazy and then refute it.

"Yes, you are." Rose says. "Or at least, if you're not, you guys have a really weird way of conversing."

"What?" I'm confused.

"You butt-dialed me a few months ago, Bella." Alice cuts in.

"I butt-dialed you?"

"Yeah. Remember that night that I invited you over while Jasper and Emmett went to the Yankee game?"

I nod.

"Well, Rose and I were minding our own business, sharing a glass of wine, when my phone rings and the caller ID says it's from 'Bella Swan'. But instead of a polite hello when I answer, do you know what I hear?"

I shake my head.

"_Ah, Edward! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" _Rose imitates in a high, breathy tone.

I can practically feel the blood drain from the rest of my face and center in my cheeks. I know exactly the time they're talking about, I think. I'd been cleaning my apartment and had my phone shoved in the back pocket of my jeans when Edward dropped by unannounced. We fucked in the entryway, against the wall while he held me up, my thighs spread and his fingers digging into my ass.

"I don't really know what to say," I tell them.

"We're not asking you to say anything, Bella. We just thought you should know that you guys aren't as covert as you think."

"I think he's upset with me," I say, and I look down into my lap where I'm twisting my fingers around then back up to Alice, whose eye brows are furrowed together, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"Did you tell him about this date you went on?" Alice asks.

"Of course I did! I saw him right after, and he's my best friend!"

She shakes her head. "I'm going to tell you something you're not going to like. I'm doing it because I love you. You need to hear it."

I stare back at her, wondering what she's going to say.

"Bella, the problem is you're a complete and total spoiled brat. You're also delusional. And a little lazy."

Wow. Not what I expected her to say. I instantly glare at her.

"What the fuck, Alice? Why would you-"

"No, Bella," she cuts me off. "Just listen. You're spoiled because you have a guy, a really good, sweet, and if I'm being honest, fucking hot guy at your beck and call. You're used to things falling into your lap and you're not treating Edward any differently. You're delusional because it's clear that he loves you and even though you're a dumb shit for going out with Demetri and I'm probably a dumb shit for fueling that, I'd bet you probably love him too. And you're lazy because you've obviously not owned up to it, even to yourself, and done something about it. If you're confused about why he's upset after you went out with another guy, I'm questioning your intelligence."

I feel like I've just been slapped across the face. I'm not even sure where to start, so defense mode and blame displacement seems good.

"Why is this all my fault? Why don't you give him shit for not saying anything? And why didn't you tell me I should go out with Demetri?"

"I'm not your mother, Bella. You're an adult. It's not my job to babysit you. And who says I haven't given him shit?"

_Oh. I guess didn't think of that_.

After several minutes of silence, I finally ask, "Was this supposed to be some sort of intervention?"

Rose snorts out a laugh.

"I'm sorry it had to come out like that, Bella. I know you might be mad at me, but I had to say it," Alice tells me.

"I'm not mad at you."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "You aren't? Why not?"

"Because you're right."

And then I take a deep breath because, somehow, just saying it out loud seems to have lifted some of the pressure off of my chest.

#WL#

I wake up and look around, trying to orient myself to where I am. So much for reading the itinerary - I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep and the cabin is pretty quiet with a lot of other people either reading or napping themselves. Rose has her headphones on and her eyes are closed, but she's not actually sleeping. Her finger is tapping slowly and silently on her armrest. Her tray is down and she's got a clear plastic cup half-filled with ice and a can of Coke. The attendant must have come around while I was sleeping.

I tap Rose on the arm and she opens her eyes to look at me.

"Can I squeeze past you?" I ask her, unbuckling my seat belt, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Sure," she says and stands up out of her chair, stepping out of my way.

I start down the aisle, my legs feeling a little wobbly from over six hours of no use and now that I'm standing, I really have to go. The lock on the door is turned to occupied and I am about to say some really bad words when it flips to green, the door swings open, and Edward is standing right in front of me.

"Oh, Bella," he glances around him like he's making sure no one is eavesdropping on us. He looks almost sheepish. "I…well, I – we need to talk."

Something in his tone tells me it's now or never. But I'm seriously about to pee my pants.

"Edward, get in here," I tell him, pulling him into the cramped space and against me until we get the door shut and the lock turned. "I know this is weird, but I have to pee. Close your eyes."

He does as I say and I hurry up and finish then wash my hands.

"Better?" he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah. We need to talk."

"I know. I already said that. I didn't really mean here though. I was thinking after we landed."

"So you were just warning me? I don't want to wait anymore."

He grimaces and shrugs one shoulder while I crane my neck to look him in the eyes. The sadness from the other night is there.

"Edward, we were fine a few days ago and now we're…I don't know. Not fine. I'm scared you're going to tell me something bad."

"Bella, this isn't working."

Well, that's definitely bad.

"Why don't you call me Blackbird anymore?" my voice waivers. I'm surprised to feel my eyes getting a little wet, my vision getting a little blurry. I'm not a crier. I blink quickly to try to make it stop. It isn't working.

"Because if this is all we're going to be, I need to separate myself a little. I can't be that guy that's just around waiting around all the time for you."

"Waiting around for me? Look, I'm sorry I went out with Demetri. I won't go again, if that's what you want. But, you go out too." I'm angry that he'd insinuate that I just use him like that. This whole thing started because of its mutual benefits.

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do. What about that blonde Rose set you up with last week?"

"You were there, Bella. How can it be a date if you were there? I haven't gone on a single date for over eight months."

I take a moment to think back and I realize he's right. I can't think of a single time he's spent the night with anyone except me or gone out when I wasn't right there in the same bar. Sure, he's flirted. But so have I.

"Why? You've had plenty of opportunities. Why?" I know I'm pushing, but I want him to say it. I need to hear it.

"Because I didn't want to, Bella." He reaches out and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"Why?"

He sighs.

"What _do_ you want, Edward? Tell me and I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything. Just tell me." There's a touch of hysteria to my voice. Even I can hear it.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Blackbird," he says softly.

My heart flutters at the name.

"Try me."

"I want it to be just you and me."

I don't need to ask him 'why'. I know exactly what he means. "I want that, too."

The dimpled grin creeps onto his face. He brings his hand up and weaves it into the back of my hair and leans down to bring his lips against my own. They're soft and warm he runs the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip until I reciprocate and open up to him. At this moment, I don't think I've tasted or felt anything better than Edward Cullen's lips. I bring my hands to the side of his face, cupping my fingers around his ears and pulling him toward me and against me as though I were trying to fuse myself to him for all of eternity.

That dream I've been having all this time? It's got nothing on reality.

* * *

><p><strong>So Alice finally serves Bella with a come-to-Jesus moment. Finally. <strong>

**Ireland's up next.**

**See you next time! **

**LA**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! I hope everyone had a wonderful New Year! I, unfortunately, do not remember much of mine but can say with absolute certainty that the day I see another glass of Lambrusco or shot of Fireball will be a day too soon. **

**I've recently received some absolutely delightful reviews from some absolutely delightful readers. Your reviews make me so, so happy and I love to know what you're thinking about the story! I will try to reply to reviews in the near future, but thought you'd rather have a new chapter first. **

**The gang's about to land in Dublin and some sexy times might come up at the end. Just saying. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>I do not own Twilight or it's characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and intended for readers 18 and over. <strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 5<p>

When we hear the knock on the door we finally break apart, breathless, swollen-lipped and dizzy with pleasure.

"I could get used to that," I tell him, pressing my breasts against him and moving one hand to rest against his chest just at the low point of his v-neck shirt, where the fine dark hairs are just visible.

He laughs and looks down at me, his verdant eyes darting around my face like he's trying to memorize it, with the crooked smile still on his face. "Yeah," he says, his voice gravelly and low, "me too, Blackbird."

There's another knock on the door, this one a little angrier than the last. I reach out and snap the latch to the unlocked position and practically fling the door open. I'm met with a stick figure of a woman sporting a blonde bob and a string of pearls and grasping the hand of a scowling little boy who's pulling against her grip like he's trying to get away from her. Her mouth twists into a sneer when she sees Edward and I crammed in the tiny room together.

"This isn't exactly an appropriate place for_ that_ when –"

"Save it, lady," I tell her and push past her, grabbing Edward's hand and pulling him out behind me. I don't really give a crap if her kid has to pee. There's more than one bathroom and I've been waiting for that kiss for a long time.

"You tell her," Edward teases me after the lady huffs and shoves her kid into the bathroom.

"What? We were busy."

"I know. It's just funny. New York has rubbed off on you a bit."

"No it hasn't. I'm just more assertive than I was when I was younger."

"Whatever you say," he shakes his head at me.

"Go back you your seat," I shove at his shoulder playfully but catch the edge of his t-shirt to pull him back and stand up on my tip toes to peck him on the lips. He grins and raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug. "Now that I can, it's hard to stop."

"Well, if you sneak into my room after everyone's asleep tonight, we could pick up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted," he glances toward the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm counting on it," I grin up at him, "but I don't think I'll have to sneak. I'm not really planning on keeping this a secret or anything," I motion between us. "Are you?"

"Well, no. I suppose not," he says thoughtfully. "That'll be a nice change of pace."

"No kidding," I say and turn around to go back to my seat.

"God, we were about to come looking for you," Rose says, looking suspiciously at me. "We thought you fell in or something."

"Nope." I plop down in my seat and re-buckle my seat belt. "Just ran into Edward. That's all."

"Is that a euphemism?" Rose smirks.

"No. Jesus, I've more self-control than that," I tell her with mock offense.

"Well, you are considerably more…chipper… than when you left," Alice pipes up.

"Yeah, I am. He said he wanted to talk and so did I. I just didn't want to wait to talk and long story short, he told me that he didn't want to see other people." I pick up my magazine and flip through the glossy pages, but I'm not actually looking at any of them. It's more of a distraction tool, to keep me grounded, because I think if I actually devoted all of my attention to this conversation, the giddiness I'm feeling is going to overtake me.

"So, that's that then?" Rose asks. "Bella and Edward. Edward and Bella. You guys are a thing now? Well, an out-in-the-public, not-secret-anymore thing?"

I nod my head slowly, a huge grin on my face, keeping my eyes on the magazine.

"Well, shit." Alice readjusts herself in her seat. "I've obviously missed my calling. I should have been a therapist."

"Well," I agree, "clearly, your methods are effective."

When the plane finally descends into Dublin International Airport nearly two hours later, I'm absolutely dying to get out of my seat. For one thing, I've never been to Ireland and I'm actually pretty excited. The biggest reason though, is the man ten rows up, ducking so he doesn't hit his head as he stands up out of his chair to reach down his carry-on. Turns out it's not easy to have the kind of conversation Edward and I had in the tiny bathroom and then not be able to talk to each other for a couple of hours even though you're only thirty feet apart.

When it's finally my turn to get out of my seat, I practically skip to the front of the plane, dragging my carry-on behind me. The air in the ramp to the terminal is considerably warmer than it was in New York, something I've been looking forward to for this trip. Ireland's climate is a lot like that in Forks and Seattle and I'll take the rain over ice and snow any day.

The boys are waiting for us once we step into the terminal and Jasper smirks at me while Emmett makes a lewd gesture when I grin at them. I guess Edward must have told them.

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Rose asks Emmett when she sees him teasing. "There are children in here, you know. Their mothers will be horrified when they copy that."

"These kids are from New York. They've seen worse." Emmett says. He's half-joking, but it's probably true.

"We'd better get going. The customs line is going to be huge," Jasper says and takes off with Alice trailing behind him.

Edward heaves his duffle bag off of the ground and onto his shoulder then holds his hand out to me.

"Oh, I can take it myself," I tell him, adjusting the strap of my messenger bag across my body and grabbing the handle of my rolling carry-on.

"I wasn't asking for your bag," he says. "I wanted to hold your hand. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." I grin at him wide enough that I can practically feel my cheeks dimple. "It's always okay."

I put my palm against his and his long fingers nearly reach to my wrist when he entwines them with my own. We walk down the hall after the other four and I look at the various ads on the walls, lagging behind a bit and letting Edward take the lead. The ads are pretty much the same as what we've got at home and I lose interest, shifting my gaze to Edward's wild bronze hair and his tall frame, leading me through the busy terminal. His features are neutral as he looks ahead, but the content is plain on his face. We pass a few women whose gazes pass over him appreciatively and to be honest, I don't even mind. I'm well aware that Edward is easy on the eyes.

When we finally stop in the customs line, Edward squeezes my hand then lets go and digs through his bag for his passport. I watch his every move, the way the muscles in his forearm flex while he holds his heavy bag up and how he bites his bottom lip as he searches. He finally pulls it from his bag, triumphantly waving it in front of him as he grins and grabs my hand again. God, he's so cute. And I think holding Edward's hand is my new favorite thing and I've wasted all this time when I could have been doing it all along. I really should have said something earlier.

#WL#

We split up into couples in the taxi queue outside. I stand on the curb, watching as Edward fits the luggage into the small trunk of the cab, arranging them together like a game of Tetris until the trunk can close. I slide into the back of the car and Edward gets in on the other side while the driver, who is a skinny little old man, hurries around to the driver's side and pulls away from the curb.

"Where're we off to?" the driver asks, glancing back at Edward as he pulls onto the busy road leading away from the airport.

"The Morrison Hotel, please." Edward replies.

"On Ormond Quay, is it?"

"That would be the one."

I pull Edward's hand into my lap and play with his fingers while I sit back and watch the city go by as we make our way downtown. It's already evening here and I can't see much in the darkness, but there are statutes and buildings I recognize from my own research and I ask Edward a few questions about them as we pass. Edward's dad emigrated to the U.S. from England after finishing medical school and his grandparents moved back to Ireland after their son left. He used to come here to visit his grandmother about once every year or so before she passed away when he was a junior in college, so he knows quite a bit about the city.

Even though I know it's a very old city, Dublin is maybe a little shabbier looking than I would have expected, but it gives it a kind of beauty that you can't find just anywhere. In some ways, it's a lot like downtown New York City. You can practically feel the history seeping out of the walls of the old structures, never taller than three or four stories, and anything new or modern sticks out like a sore thumb.

"The Spire is kind of odd," I observe, pointing out the window to the silver, needle-like structure jutting into the sky over the old, brick buildings. "Why did they build it?"

"It was part of a campaign to make O'Connell Street more attractive," Edward tells me, ducking his head to take a look himself. "Not everyone likes it though. Some people think it was too expensive."

I continue asking him questions, taking advantage of my own personal tour guide as the driver weaves through the traffic and eventually pulls up in front of our hotel. I help Edward pull our suitcases from the trunk and a bell-hop holds the door open for me as I wheel them into the lobby. Jasper's just finishing checking in for the group.

"What took you guys so long?" Alice asks from her seat astride the largest of her suitcases, foregoing the empty chairs in the modern looking reception area.

"We took the long way around," Edward tells her as he approaches the group.

Jasper finishes checking in and comes over to dole out room keys.

"There's nothing on the agenda for tonight, so let's just agree to meet down here at eight sharp, tomorrow morning. Alice and I are going out to get something to eat if any of you want to join us."

"Thanks, man, but I think I'll just order in. I'm pretty tired," Edward says as he takes his room key from Jasper. "I didn't sleep well last night."

I wonder for a second if that could have been because of me.

"Do you mind if I stay with you?" I ask him while Alice and Jasper talk to Rose and Emmett about where they want to go.

"Of course not," he smiles at me.

"Hey, Alice, I'm going to stay here and order something with Edward," I tell her and she waves her hand at me.

"Don't worry about it, I figured you would."

I turn and hurry toward the elevator, where Edward is holding the door open for me.

"You forgot your room key!" Jasper calls after me.

"I don't think she'll need it," I hear Alice say as the elevator doors close.

#WL#

Edward unlocks the door to his room and I wheel my suitcases over to the area by the window looking out over the River Liffey. The lights of Temple Bar are glowing in the darkness and there's a light mist in the air that gives a halo around each of them. It's actually a little stuffy in the room and I open the window a couple of inches to let the cool air in while Edward turns on the bedside lamps.

The room is as modern as the lobby was, with clean, square lines accented in neutral colors and a bed covered in all white linens. It's a beautiful room, but I sort of wish we were staying in a place with a little more character – or at least the stereotypical character I thought of when I imagined the way a Dublin hotel would be. Heavy Edwardian headboards, ornate golden picture frames, dark linens and leaded windows. That kind of thing.

"You're awfully quiet over there, Blackbird," Edward says from behind me and I turn to look at him. His shoes are kicked off and he's lying back on the bed with his hands behind his head. He flicks on the TV and starts moving through the channels. "Do you want to get something to eat? We could just order room service."

"Sure," I pick up a thick padded book with a black leather cover from the desk. I'm guessing the menu's got to be somewhere in here. I flip through the glossy pages, through a big section full of suggestions for things to do and places to go before I come to the hotel information section. "They serve breakfast all day here," I announce, looking down at the selection. "How do pancakes sound?"

"Sounds awesome," Edward replies as he leaves the channel on a soccer game and tosses the remote aside.

"Pancakes it is," I say and pick up the phone to put in our order.

Twenty minutes later, Edward and I are sitting on the bed, shoving pancakes into our mouths, watching a close match between Manchester United and Liverpool. Edward occasionally comments, calling one player an idiot, saying how awesome another one is. I like soccer a lot, but not the way Edward does. When we're not filming, it seems like he's either playing with his league or playing FIFA on his PlayStation. He buys the new version every year and takes pride in his ability to completely own Jasper and Emmett, no matter how many times they play. I really like watching the games on TV with him. I've always liked that Edward and I can just be together without having to be actually do much of anything.

I'm totally stuffed and I put my half-finished plate on the bedside table and lie back on the pillows. I watch as a player approaches the goal and Edward tenses in anticipation.

"What? No! He's offiside! Do you see that?" He turns to look at me and gestures at the screen.

"Why don't they call it then?" I ask. I've never really understood the offside thing.

"Because the ref is an idiot," he says, turning back to the TV.

After a couple of minutes, the game goes into half-time and Edward relaxes and lies back next to me. I turn on my side to look at him and I'm reminded of a few nights ago, after my date with Demetri, when Edward and I were doing this very same thing on his bed in his apartment. This time is so much different though. Sure, his favorite team is one point behind and he's not happy about it, but he's relaxed now. The sadness that was there that night isn't there now, and I feel a wave of guilt for having caused any sadness to begin with.

"Edward?" I reach out and take his hand in my own.

"Yeah?"

"I really am sorry that I went out with Demetri. I didn't mean to upset you." I purse my lips and squeeze his hand a little tighter. He sighs.

"You didn't upset me, Blackbird. Well, you did, but it wasn't your fault. I should have said something earlier."

"No, it is my fault. I've had feelings for you for awhile and I never said anything even though I promised I would. When you told me you had to think about things, it scared me a little. I thought you might not want to be around me as much, but you're my favorite person, Edward. I want to be around you all the time. I feel bad that you felt bad."

"I'm your favorite person?" Edward asks. I nod. "Phew!" he fake wipes his forehead. "That's a good thing. Because there's nothing you can do to get rid of me now!"

"Don't kid, Edward. It wasn't a joke."

He turns to face me and brings his hand up to push my hair behind my ear then leaves his palm to rest against my cheek.

"I'm not kidding, pretty girl," He leans in until his lips are just millimeters from mine and whispers against my mouth, "you're my favorite person, too."

He presses his lips against mine and we kiss like that for a few minutes, alternating between short little pecks and longer ones where his stubble rubs my chin. When I open my mouth and suck lightly on his lower lip, he plays along and our hands start to wander. I move my fingers through the trail of hair that leads from his flat stomach down into his jeans and he moans into my mouth when my hand brushes against the growing bulge in the front of his pants. His hands are working to unclasp my bra without even bothering to take off my shirt, and when he gets it undone, he moves them around to the front, shoving my bra up and out of the way and wasting no time in letting his fingers pinch and play with my nipples.

His moaning gets louder when I unbutton his jeans and, rather unceremoniously, shove my hand down into his boxer briefs to wrap my fingers around his cock and stroke him all the way from the base to the tip. He releases my mouth with a sort of pop and sits up off the bed, looking around like he's disoriented and has lost something.

"What are you doing?" I ask, getting up to sit on my knees. He's already got his jeans shoved off and his boxers are next.

"I need a condom. Do you have a condom?" He pulls his shirt over his head and he's completely naked, on his knees, practically tearing apart his suitcase. I'd laugh if I wasn't so busy staring at his cock, bobbing in front of him while he searches. The thing commands attention. I should make a replica and sell it at my local adult toy shop. I could probably make a fortune.

"No. I didn't bring any," I tell him. I'm momentarily disappointed before our conversation in the bathroom comes into my head. The one about Edward having not seen anyone all year. "When was the last time you were tested?"

He thinks for a second. "Four months ago."

"And you haven't slept with anyone but me since?"

"No."

"Well, neither have I. And I'm on the shot."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes, Edward, I am saying what you think I'm saying. Now get over here, because this conversation is a real boner killer."

He stands up off the floor and stalks toward me, shooting his hand out to grab me around the ankle and pulling me toward him. "Oh, Blackbird. You're such a romantic."

"Yeah, but you like me like that," I laugh and pull my shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor along with my bra. Edward hooks his fingers into my pants and pulls them and my panties down my legs until we're both stark naked.

"Damn right, I do," he says and leans over me for a kiss.

Edward's kisses are urgent, heated, and almost frantic before he begins to move down my body, taking my nipples into his mouth, one by one and sucking until they are as hard as can be. His cock rubs against my inner thigh where he lies between my legs and I can feel the damp trail of pre-cum against my skin where he moves back and forth. His fingers move lower and brush against my pussy, his thumb pressing against my clit while he slips one long digit inside of me, moving it in and out a couple of times before he removes it completely and he's grasping my thighs, pulling them farther apart.

I fist his hair in my hands and tug slightly, trying to get him to look up at me.

"Edward, baby, slow down. Slow down," I tell him and pull on his arm to get him to come up onto the bed. He looks a little surprised, probably because I certainly haven't set any precedence for slow and steady before, but moves up onto the bed, nearly against the headboard, sitting cross-legged.

His green eyes are darkened and he looks at me and holds out his hand.

"Stand up," he tells me in a husky voice, pulling me toward him, closer and closer until his face is level with the apex of my thighs. "Put your hands on the headboard."

I do as he says and he lifts one of my legs to rest over his shoulder. He begins kissing along the insides of my thighs and I hold my breath in anticipation of his lips touching me where I want him most. I don't have to wait long and his hand that isn't holding my thigh securely to his shoulder comes up to part the lips of my pussy, giving his tongue access to my clit. I squeal when I feel the tip brush against me and then move down to just barely press into my opening before moving back up again. He repeats this a few times before he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks lightly and he only does it twice more before my lungs are heaving and my leg is trembling and then – he stops.

"What? Why'd you stop?" I look down at him, confused and maybe a little crazed.

"I want to look at you. I want to kiss you. Come here."

He moves my leg from his shoulder until I am standing astride his hips, his legs still folded cross-legged.

"Sit on my lap," he directs me, holding his hand up for me to grab.

I take his hand in my own but then let go and put both of my hands on his shoulders, bracing myself while I begin to lower down. He looks up at me, watching as I slowly bend my knees to squat over him, then finally taking his cock into his hand to hold himself steady when I'm low enough to take him into my body. I suck in a breath as the head pushes into me and moves deep as I sink down onto him until my bottom is cradled in his folded legs and we're face to face.

"Put your legs around me," he whispers as he wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me against him.

I move my right leg around his back and then the other before resting my arms on his shoulders, one draped down his back and the other around the back of his head and woven into his hair. I pull his face to mine and kiss him, stopping only to suck in deep breaths when I rock forward the slightest bit and feel his cock twitch deep inside of me.

We begin to move, slowly, back and forth, in more of a rocking motion than thrusting. I never release his lips from my own, except to take a breath when it's absolutely necessary, but then I'm right back again, moaning and gasping into his mouth as the tension deep in my belly builds. My arms cling to him and my breasts, damp with sweat, slide against his chest with each motion.

I don't know how long we've been here like this, it feels like I can't think clearly, but it could have been minutes or it could have been hours for all I was concerned. I could stay like this forever, surrounded by Edward, smelling his smell, breathing in his breath, cradled in his lap and holding his body within my own. But nothing this good can last too long and Edward's fingers move into the tight space between our bellies and down to the place where we're joined.

"I need you to come, Blackbird," he says, his voice low and rough. "I can't last much longer."

He rubs against me in tight circles, they way he knows will tip me over the edge. When my muscles begin to flutter around him and I release a scream into his mouth, he joins me with a low moan, releasing into me and holding us still and so tightly together I can feel the quick beat of his heart beneath by breast.

We're both breathing heavily, like we just ran a marathon, even though we really weren't even moving all that quickly. I raise up on my knees, his softening cock slipping from my body and I hover over his lap for a few seconds while he kisses me again, more softly now, until I feel a trickle of liquid making its way down the inside of my thigh.

"Oh. Oh, God!" I say, pressing my hand between my legs and making a disgusted face as I scurry to the bathroom.

When I return, Edward's cheeks are colored with a little blush, and he looks at me sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I guess the condoms are good for more than just disease and baby protection, huh?"

"Don't be sorry. I'm not. I didn't mean to react like that. I guess I just wasn't expecting it. I've never had sex without a condom before." I pulled on my panties and crawled under the covers next to Edward. "We'll just have to invest in some bed-side Kleenex."

We lie there in silence for a while, a hand joined between us. Edward yawned and shifted onto his side, his eyes examining my face.

"I'm really happy, Blackbird."

"Me too."

"I think we could be happy together for a really long time. Maybe our entire lives."

I thought back to the last few hours of my life. How the feeling of despair and urgency overtook me when I thought he was going to cut things off and the sense of euphoria I felt when I realized what he wanted was what I wanted too. How simple things like kissing him and holding his hand made me feel like I'd won some kind of huge lottery and would never have to worry about anything for the rest of my life. How the sex we'd just had was really something more than sex, and for the first time in my life, I might have understood why people said they were making love, even though that term grossed me out.

"Yeah," I smile at him. "I think you could be right."

* * *

><p><strong>I don't know why, but I was a bit nervous about this chapter, particularly this lemon. I hope it was up to snuff. <strong>

**LA**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! I've got an earlier than usual update for your this week. Thanks to Nik Maryll who rec'd this story on ADF last week and to all of you who took her rec and gave this story a shot. **

**A couple of things to mention: first, the lovely SoapyMayhem has created a banner for this story, the link to which can be found on my profile. I am grateful for the work she put into it! Second, you can now find me on Twitter at LastAboard. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>I do not own Twilight or it's characters. No copy right infringement is intended. This story is rated M and intended only for readers age 18 and over. <strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 6<p>

Edward tosses and turns in his sleep, a fact which is made worse (at least for me) by the fact that the bed in this room is a size smaller than my bed at home and two sizes smaller than Edward's. He's particularly active tonight and after an arm being flung across my chest and an elbow to the kidneys, I decide to get up for a bit. I'm not very tired anyway, which is part of the reason all the movement is bothering me tonight – I'm usually a heavy sleeper and barely wake up when an errant hand or leg makes its way to my side of the bed.

I read for some time, hooking my e-reader up to the wireless connection based out of the hotel to choose a new book. I go through all the recommendations the e-bookstore gives me and I'm unsurprised to see they're almost all romance novels and chit lit. If there's one thing I've learned from having an e-reader it's the don't-judge-a-book-by-its-cover lesson. Books I never would have picked up in a bookstore turned out to be awesome when spared the embarrassment of reading a book with some sweaty, beefy blonde dude with longer hair than I have on the cover.

When the street sounds coming in through the window seem to dull a bit, I glance at my phone and see that it's just past midnight. I put down my book and turn the arm chair I'm sitting in to face the window. I put my feet up onto the low window sill and fold my arms over my bent knees, resting my head and looking down at the Liffey below, black in the darkness of night. There are a couple of people visible on the street and a few cars – not as much activity as you'd see on the streets of New York at this time, but it certainly isn't dead. The street lights are blazing and the sky is just bright enough with the glow of the city that you can see the thin wisps of grey smoke rising from the chimney stacks of some of the buildings closest to us.

Edward makes a single sighing-grunting noise that's almost a little high pitched and I smile when I hear him moving around more and the soft thunk of a pillow hitting the floor before he quiets down again. Those must be some dreams he's having tonight.

The silence and relative darkness of the room is soothing and gives me a chance to think about what's occurred over the last twenty-four hours. It was like a gauntlet of emotions, something I'm certainly not used to. I still feel guilty for having upset Edward, but I didn't do it on purpose. I could have decided I wanted to take a break as easily as he could have. It's not like I'm the only one who had feelings they weren't saying anything about. But that's just the problem. Why did I have to wait for him to say something first? Am I really as lazy as Alice said I was? Do I really wait for everything to fall into my lap? It's scary to think that if that's true, I could have lost Edward over it. And I don't just mean the sex, which is great, but isn't the only reason I love him.

I run my fingers through my hair, picking through the tangles left by Edward earlier in the night. I consider whether saying that I love Edward is too strong a statement. I've never been in love with anyone before him, so I've got no comparison. We've never been officially together, not until today, but I'm not sure that matters. He is absolutely, above everyone else, my best friend in the entire world. I'm always relaxed with him. I don't think there's a secret I have that he doesn't know, even the really embarrassing stuff and with those things, it's somehow not that embarrassing that he knows. And, even though a lot of people probably think our casual arrangement should have felt cheap, there has never been any place I've felt more valued and safe than clutched in Edward Cullen's arms. Considering all that, I think it's pretty clear. I love him, and the statement's definitely not too strong.

I hear the sheets stir again and then settle just as I see a stray dog walking along the quay, sniffing as it moves along, probably looking for scraps of food.

"What are you doing over there?" Edward's low voice breaks the silence and I turn to look at him. He's still lying down on his side and the sheets are pushed down low on his hips with one hand underneath the pillow and the other flung out onto the side of the bed where I'd been laying. He's still tired, his eyes are sleepy and his long lashes cast shadows against his cheeks with each slow blink he takes.

"Just thinking," I tell him softly, giving him a little smile.

"Hmm. Come here." He turns on his back and holds his hand out to me. I unfold my legs from under myself and go over to fall into bed, letting him wrap his arms around me and pull me against him. "What are you thinking about?" he rasps, running his fingers from my shoulder down to the crook of my elbow.

"I don't know. You. Us."

"It's been kind of an interesting day." He turns his head and buries his nose into my hair.

"A good one, though."

"I was worried about what you'd say, Bella."

"What? About how you wanted to be with me?"

He nods and I can feel the fine strands of my hair catching a bit on his stubble. I turn onto my side and drape my arm across his stomach.

"You shouldn't have been worried," I tell him, but he stays quiet.

The fact that he was worried about what I'd say, and that I was worried about what he was going to say, is concerning. It certainly doesn't speak well for our communication skills. I would have thought we'd have been able to read each other better than that. But I'm not a mind reader, and neither is he, so I resolve to try harder. Starting now.

"I love you, Edward. I'm sorry I'm only telling you now."

The rush of emotion I feel now that I've said it is unexpected and the relief that comes in saying it is palpable. It seems truer than ever now that the words are out, alive, and hanging in the air.

He tilts his face toward mine.

"I love you, too. I've loved you for some time now."

"I wish I would have known."

"No use in wishing for it, Blackbird. We'll just have to try to make up for the time we missed."

He kisses me and it's tender and soft and I revel in the love I can feel it in. I wish we didn't have the no-kissing rule before. Maybe I'd have been more confident to tell him how I felt if we'd kissed.

#WL#

Edward rests his hands on my thighs, his eyes glued to my breasts where they hang in front of him, pressed together between my arms as I brace myself against his chest. Neither one of us has said anything since waking up again, which is new for us, but nice. I like being quiet with Edward as much as I like talking to him and it felt good to slowly pull myself out of the haze of sleep with a few kisses and a few touches that escalated until I pulled off my panties and nightshirt and Edward pushed his boxers out of the way so that I could climb astride his hips and take him into my body.

At first I'd leaned forward over him, knees folded beneath me and elbows resting next to his ears with my fingers laced in his crown of bronze hair. I kissed him and plunged my tongue into his mouth as my pussy brushed against the hair at the base of his cock where my pelvis came to settle against his own. Goosebumps raised on my skin when he brought his hands up to lazily stroke my thighs but as good as it felt, I was itching to move. Giving him one last peck, I pushed myself up until my arms were straight in front of me, elbows locked, fingers digging slightly into his lean pectoral muscles.

I start with a slow pace, breathing deeply with every stroke and watching his beautiful face react to the building tension. After awhile, his breathing becomes more staccato and the crease between his eyebrows appears. I know he's close and I sit completely upright, curving my back with my breasts jutting out and my pelvis tilted down to give my clit the friction I need against his pubic bone. I clench my muscles, trying to get there before he can't take it anymore and lets go. It earns me some breathy groans from Edward, who still hasn't moved his hands from my thighs. I move faster, my quads burning from the exertion of moving my body in the same quick motion over and over for the last few minutes.

Edward tenses up beneath me and his fingers dig into my hips as he bucks up a little, meeting my downward thrust and forcing himself deep into my body.

"Oh! Fuck!" I release a high-pitched, breathy cry as he holds me to him and with a couple of short, jerking motions, comes inside me. My eyes squeeze shut and my hand flies down to where our bodies meet and I swivel my hips in quick circles, desperate to tip over the edge.

"Touch me, Edward," I pant, reaching blindly for him with my free hand. "Hurry."

I feel his fingers tangle with my own against my pussy and the slick base of his cock before he directs the pressure onto my clit, moving his fingertips over me in short, rapid movements.

"Ah! Yes!" I squeak, sucking in short, inefficient breaths as my thighs begin to shake and I involuntarily clench tighter around his hips. I begin to squirm on top of him as the shaking spreads to the rest of my body while my pussy grasps onto him in rhythmic waves and my hands reach out for him, finding purchase against the flat, lean muscle of his torso.

When the tremors running through me subside and my lungs finally open up again, I collapse forward onto him, bringing my arms back up to clasp together above his head and burying my face in the crook of his neck. My breathing comes slower and deeper with each passed second, opposite to his, and my body raises with his chest each time he exhales. We lie that way for a few minutes, until the slight breeze coming off of the river and in through the window makes itself known on my damp skin and I begin to shiver.

Edward turns his face into my hair and I can feel his kiss just behind my ear. I lift my head and face the other direction, lips just centimeters from his.

"I love you, Blackbird," he tells me in a deep, gravelly tone. "I really, really do."

They're the first words he's spoken to today. I could get used to this.

#WL#

The elevator lurches to a halt and as the door slides open, I see that Alice and Jasper are already waiting for us in the lobby. Alice has always been an early riser, and she's usually the first one to arrive unless it's to a party, in which case she goes with the fashionably late approach. We've made it down in record time, I thought. I mean, forty-five minutes from peeling myself away from Edward to showered and make-up applied is pretty damn quick for me. I picked my clothes faster than usual this morning too, going for black leggings and a gauzy, oversized white shirt under my leather bomber jacket with plain, black patent leather flats. I wanted to be comfortable today since I know it will be a long one. You know, lots of foundation shots and more touristy type things than we'll probably run into for the rest of the trip. It's usually the part that I'm the least excited about – I don't love doing touristy things, I'm more about the stuff locals do to have fun. Ireland is different though – it's got a rich literary history and the bibliophile in me is pretty pumped to check it out.

Alice's eyes scan me up and down, surveying my outfit for acceptable camera-readiness, and I try in vain to put some spring in my step despite the soreness radiating through my thighs and in my knees. I suppose it's generally not advisable to be bouncing on your knees for thirty minutes straight just before you're expected to walk all over town, but oh well. It'll go away by lunchtime, and boy was it worth it.

Alice has a smug grin on her face and raises an eyebrow at me as I lower myself down into the chair across from her while Jasper goes to help Edward pack the camera equipment into a rented van. "Nice swagger, Bella. You look like you're been riding a horse all day."

"She's been riding something, alright," Rose cuts in from behind me, "but I doubt it was a horse."

"Shut up. You guys are so fucking crude," I say, but I'm grinning.

"Yeah, well. We learned it from you. At least I did. My mother was shocked at my mouth after I came home from my first quarter rooming with you." Alice crosses arms over her chest and rests one leg on top of the other. "I'm guessing you had a good night?"

"You guess right." I beam. I'm not even going to try to hide it.

"That's awesome, Bella. I'm really happy for you," Rose says, standing to pick up her bag when the boys come back into the lobby. "And I'll expect details later," she says under her breath so that only Alice and I can hear.

"I wouldn't expect any less," I say and Alice giggles as I heave myself out of the chair, ignore my aching thighs and go toward the group.

Edward sits in the driver's seat of the van – he's been here enough times to have a good general idea of where we're going, and I take the seat directly behind him, letting Jasper sit up front.

Jasper says we're headed to St. Stephen's Green first, it'll be better in the morning when there're fewer people. There are already quite a lot of people out, dressed in their business clothes and walking quickly, with a purpose. We pull up to a red light, next to a tiny Starbucks where the line inside looks to be almost to the door. Funny how some things are exactly the same the world over. I look forward and catch Edward's eye in the rearview mirror. It crinkles at the edge and I can tell he's smiling at me and I grin back.

"Bella!" Alice smacks my arm, making me jump. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

"Obviously not." I tell her. "Sorry. What is it?"

She glowers at me for a moment before she starts up. "I was saying that we had a good time out last night and you should come this time. There are some great little bars with a lot of history. We should maybe even do some filming."

"Oh. Yeah, that would be cool."

She nods, placated, and turns around to talk to Rose. Being our editor, Rose doesn't really have any responsibilities today since there's nothing to edit yet. Even if it's a little unconventional to bring your editor along, she's great to have with us and one of the perks to having a small team is that we can all come along together. Plus, Edward has been known to ask her opinion for various shots since she's the expert on how it'll look all pieced together.

We don't drive very far or for very long before Edward pulls into a parking space on a little off street and says we'll walk from here. "Besides," he says, "showing a bit of you walking to the Green will be good footage."

Edward unpacks the camera and Emmett gets the sound equipment ready while Alice presses a thin piece of tissue against my face, makes me put on more lipstick, then blots that with the same tissue.

I always get a little nervous when we start filming – I'm worried I'm going to bore everyone to death. We're not the type of show that's scripted per se and it's up to me to say something at least marginally interesting. I mean, sure, there's goals about the kind of information we want to get in there, but we're more of an if-Anthony-Bourdain-was-a-girl-and-did-less-stuff-with-food kind of show. Anything scripted usually comes in during voice-overs.

When the equipment is finally ready, Edward hoists the camera onto his shoulder and Emmett mics me with a tiny wireless lavalier that is virtually invisible against my black jacket.

"You ready, Blackbird?" Edward asks as I smooth my shirt and fluff my hair one more time.

"I suppose so."

"Alright, then. Let's get to it." I see the red light on his camera go on and he gives me a wink and a grin before turning his eyes to the viewfinder.

The busy street just ahead of us is Grafton Street, one of the main shopping streets in the Dublin city center, and it's already bustling. I get a few looks as I walk ahead of the group, but I don't feel self conscious about it like I would have last year. People don't exactly find it normal for people to walk along followed by three guys lugging camera equipment and they take their opportunity to stare.

Fusilier's Arch looms ahead of me as I approach the Green and to my delight, the number of people in the park does look to be low. I'd read up on the history of most of the things we'd be visiting and unlike many things I've come upon in my travels, the Green is just as I'd pictured it to be. In many ways it's much like a mini-version of Central Park, but more closed in and a bit more lush. We film bits of the park that are less interesting (the lakes and such) before getting on to some of the things that make the park special. There's a garden for the blind where the plants are marked in signs punctured with Braille and the plants are a little sturdier and meant to withstand touching. I read that the plants are all scented as well, but the season prevents me from experiencing that to the full extent.

There seem to be a very large number of statues and monuments for the size of the park – we pass by a memorial installation for the famine, a statue of the guy who gave the park to the city, the bust of James Joyce (which I personally gush over a bit due to my love of all things Joycean) and a number of others before we're done. A few passersby looked at Emmett like he was stupid when he commented, kiddingly, that they spelled Robert Emmet's name wrong ("there's two 't's, duh," he'd said) on his statue.

By the time we were done at the Green, it was nearly lunchtime.

"Are any of you guys hungry?" I asked, feeling my stomach rumble. It was only a matter of time before it started doing that audibly. "How about an early lunch?"

"That's the best idea anyone's had all day," Emmett says as we approach the van. "Let's go to that Captain America's place I saw back there," he motions toward Grafton Street.

"Captain America's?" Rose asks, incredulously. "What the fuck is that? It's probably like Fat Ammy's or something."

Edward and I both crack up. "Is it an American styled restaurant?" Edward asks and I just laugh harder.

"Is this an inside joke?" Emmett asks, frowning at us.

"Arrested Development," Rose says in explanation. Rose and I bonded over that show when we first met. I'd initially thought she was a little too reserved, maybe even a bit icy, but busted out laughing when she made a reference to an episode during a staff meeting. I invited her over the following weekend for a viewing marathon and I learned that my first impressions of her were way off the mark. We'd been good friends ever since.

"Well, it was just a suggestion and a burger sounds good," Emmett says as he puts his gear in the van.

"Meh," Alice says, making a face. "I want something lighter than that. We've still got a busy day ahead of us and if I eat a big lunch, I'm just going to want to go to sleep. I want to go to that crepe café we passed on the way down here."

"I don't really care what it is, as long as it's edible," Edward interjects as he locks up his camera equipment. "You decide, Jasper. You're the producer. You should make the executive decisions."

"Great," Emmett groans sarcastically. "Crepes it is."

Jasper could do nothing but shrug his shoulders and follow Alice.

#WL#

For all the complaining he did, Emmett sure downed a shit-load of crepes. The café Alice had seen turned out to have a huge selection of stuff on the menu and my crepe stuffed with fontina cheese, asparagus and caramelized onions was to die for as was the grilled cheese sandwich Edward ordered. I swear, that boy could live off of grilled cheese sandwiches – I'd made him about fifty billion when we were hanging out in college and the habit was picked back up again when he moved to New York. The first time I made him one, he told me he'd only had it one other time in his life. I didn't believe him, knowing that his mom was something of a domestic goddess, but he assured me that was the reason she never made them – she loved trying new recipes and Edward was her guinea pig. She wanted something with more excitement than grilled cheese.

With our hunger satisfied, we finished up at the café and walked back to the van to pick up filming again. Edward took my hand as we walked side by side behind the other two couples and swinging our arms between us as we went. I had to take two steps for every one of his long strides and he laughed as he looked down at our legs.

"I can slow down, you know, if it's easier for your little legs to keep up."

I smack his arm with my free hand. "Shut up, you. Don't make fun of my legs. It's not my fault you're a giant."

"I'm not a giant, Blackbird. I'm six-two. I think it's more that it's not _my_ fault _your're_ mini."

"I'm not mini! I'm only two inches shorter than the average!" I huff, feigning exasperation.

"It's okay, I like you like that. You're the perfect height for an arm rest," he says and lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me into his side. "You excited for Trinity?" he asks. He's referring to the next item on the itinerary, and the thing I've been most looking forward to: Trinity College and the Long Room library. I've seen pictures of the library and they're absolutely beautiful. The books there are ancient and in most cases important. You can't take pictures and you can't touch anything. That is, of course, unless you have a special temporary permit to do so for the purposes of filming a television show, which we do.

"It's going to be so awesome, I'm going to have a literary orgasm."

"A literary orgasm, huh?" he looks down at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes. Similar to the type you are familiar with, but brought on by exposure to books and libraries of remarkable beauty. Common in book nerds like myself."

"Does it carry the same level of intensity as the regular kind?"

I shrug. "Let's hope for my sake it doesn't. I am, on occasion, known to be a screamer."

Edward barks out a laugh. "Oh, you don't have to tell me, Blackbird. That's a fact I'm well aware of." He leans down closer to my ear and whispers, "If you're a good girl, I'll make you scream tonight."

I shiver while he kisses my jaw, just below my ear then laugh and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Edward Cullen, you should learn how to whisper more quietly!" Alice says from a few feet in front of us. "First of all, we don't need to hear all your dirty plans and second of all, you two are coming out tonight."

"Jesus, woman, do you have bionic hearing or something?" Edward scowls at the back of her head.

"No, just awesome internal radar for when people are going to fake being tired to stay in and bone, which I already let you get away with last night, so don't even try it."

It's alright. We can't exactly have screaming-orgasm-sex anyway since we're in a hotel. Man, I can't wait to get on that RV.

* * *

><p><strong>I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm hoping there's not too much lemon. The intention was never for this to be PWP, and I don't think it is, but I still worry about things like that.<strong>

**Anyway, I hope you liked it!**

**LA**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Well, some of you may already know this, but it's snowing in Seattle. This is a problem because us Seattlites don't deal with snow well. At all. Rain - sure. We've got that down. But snow? No, sir.**

**Anyway, I've been stuck inside for two days so, in addition to this chapter, I also completed two short chapters of a new story, _Icebreaker_. I'd love for you all to check it out, if you'd be so inclined. It's posted here on FF. Also, as I said in my author's note for _Icebreaker_, don't get worried and think I'd abandon or slow down on _Wanderlust_ in favor of the other one. Not going to happen. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>I don't own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and intended only for readers age 18 and over. <strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 7<p>

Standing in this room, craning my neck to look up at the gleaming, dark wooded arches high above and the floor-to-ceiling shelves holding centuries-old volumes of books written in dialects old enough that few people probably understand them anymore, I am speechless. I barely hear Sean, the tour guide who met us at the front entrance of Trinity College, even though I know he's talking. This is not a criticism of his tour-guide skills, which I have to say, have been pretty great. I typically find these sorts of tours to be rather dull, but Sean has kept me entertained with tales of Bram Stoker and Oscar Wilde, of gun fights in front of residence halls and of college leaders who would rather die than see a woman admitted to Trinity. He shuttled me around the campus grounds, through the room holding the Book of Kells and finally, up the stairs and into the Long Room Library. I knew it would be beautiful, but…there just aren't words.

I feel a light push on the small of my back and notice that Sean has walked into one of the alcoves of shelved books. Edward is just behind me with the camera and is urging me toward Sean, who is holding open one of the red velvet ropes that run the length of the hall on each side.

"It's somethin' to look at, isn't it?" Sean teases with a glint in his eye.

"I'll say," I breathe, shifting my attention to the spines of the books at my eye level. Sean tells me there are around two hundred thousand books in this room. Some are covered in fabrics, others more of a board binding material. Some have faded labels, others don't.

"Do you notice anything funny about the books?" Sean asks, looking at me even though I see his pupils dart to Edward and the camera every now and then. It's hard for people not to want to look at the camera, but Sean is doing a pretty good job.

"Funny?" I scan from top to bottom, trying to note anything out of order. "No. Should I?"

"Well, if you look closely, you'll see the books aren't organized by author. And we don't use the Dewey decimal system, either. They're organized by size."

My eyes widen as I lean a little closer. "Size? How you do you locate any of the books?"

"Our librarians have good memories," Sean jokes before he goes on. "Actually, there's a catalogue system that corresponds to these letters here." He points to a series of letters engraved in the wood at the edge of each shelf.

Sean goes on to show me some of the more notable sculpted busts in the long line running the entire length of the room, on both sides, with a bust of a different person at the end of each shelf. I rush him through it a bit, and when I glance back at Edward, I see him smirk and shake his head at me a bit. He's always said it's dreadfully obvious when I'm not interested in something. I love history, I really do, but random busts of old guys I've never heard of would be one of the things that fall into the 'Bella's not that interested' category.

Before we leave the room, Sean points out one of the few remaining copies of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic and a beautiful harp which is, apparently, the oldest one in Ireland. Sean says it's around six hundred years old and is the harp that the emblem of Ireland is based off of. After I spend a couple of minutes marveling over those, Edward stops filming and I thank Sean for showing us around.

It takes almost no time at all for us to return to the hotel. Actually, one of the things I've liked a lot about Dublin so far is that it seems like it takes no time at all for us to get anywhere. When we first arrived at Trinity, we learned that an earlier tour was taking longer than usual and they asked if we could shift our own tour to later in the day. Jasper made a few calls and it seemed like that would work just fine.

We filled our time with a couple of things we'd planned on doing tomorrow before getting set up in the RVs. We checked out the unassuming, four-story Georgian brick home at 15 Usher's Island that didn't look like anything special but had served as the location for James Joyce's story _The Dead_, which happened to be my favorite of his stories in _Dubliners_. After that, we piled into the van and went across town (well, not really across, just further than I'd been until that point) to Christ Church Cathedral and St. Patrick's Cathedral. Nearing one thousand and eight hundred years old, respectively, I'm not sure that I really said anything all that interesting while we were there – I was too busy staring at the impressive height of the vaulted ceilings and the vibrancy of the stained glass windows. I sat in a chair at Christ Church next to the tomb of Strongbow and marveled at the fact that every Sunday, there were people who came here and sat here right next to the thing. I wondered if it was old hat to them or if they were as awed as I was over the concept of doing something as pedestrian as going to mass while seated right next to the body of a relatively well known medieval historical figure. Well, assuming the story that his body is actually in there is true, since apparently, there's some room for doubt. That's not really the point though. Dublin was like no place I'd ever been, and I'd been to a lot of places. The history of this place was so…accessible. You could just reach out and touch it, literally.

I'd asked Jasper if he thought I was doing okay while we made our way back to Trinity.

"I just feel like I'm not talking enough, not being engaging enough," I told him while we sat in the back seat, letting Emmett have a turn at shotgun while Rose and Alice sat in the middle and talked about what we should do later tonight.

"I think you're doing fine. You're reactions have been pretty good – one of the things that makes you so good for this job is your reactions. You have a very expressive face."

"Yeah, well. I'm afraid I'm making myself look like an idiot. I feel like I've just been walking around with my mouth hanging open going 'whoa, look at this!' over and over. And we haven't even been to the library yet."

"I think we've all been doing that," Jasper laughed, "except for your boyfriend up there."

I blushed and shrugged. It would probably take me some time go get used to hear him being called my boyfriend, even if it wouldn't be hard to get used to acting like it. "He's seen it all before."

"Yeah, he mentioned he used to come here relatively often."

I nodded. "His grandparents lived here."

"Hmm. I thought his dad was English. Although, I suppose Cullen is more of an Irish last name."

"Carlisle grew up in England but his parents moved back to Dublin after he left for the states."

Jasper nodded and turned to look out the window as we drive down Dame Street. I recognized some of the buildings and knew we were getting close to Trinity. Edward and Emmett had moved from talking about work onto hurling, a sort of field hockey-like sport that involved whacking around a ball called a sliotar that very closely resembled a baseball with a stick called a hurley. Emmett was very interested in trying it out, but Edward was warning him that it was rougher than it looked. Edward had played during a summer spent visiting his grandparents when he was fifteen. The roughness was something I knew Edward was no stranger to – there was a jagged scar, about two inches long, which rested just above the back point of his right ear and was apparently acquired when another player committed a technical foul and threw his hurley. The hurley connected with Edward's skull, sending him to the hospital and eventually home with twenty-one stitches. It hit him hard enough that the doctor said he was lucky not to have suffered more extensive head damage and his grandma put the kibosh on hurling, despite protests from his grandpa that he didn't need babying. Through his thick hair, it wasn't visible to most people, but I'd felt the raised line under my fingertips on numerous occasions.

Rose, catching wind of Emmett's desire to play a game with the potential to 'mess up his face' as she put it, chimed in with her opinion that he should refrain from doing so. Emmett countered with the argument that any sport could mess up your face and the four of them went on discussing the potential for messing up faces in a variety of sports while Jasper and I sat quietly in the back seat.

"You know," Jasper said to me quietly when their discussion was becoming particularly heated, "I'm really happy for you guys. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Jasper." I grin back at him. "I'm really, really happy."

"So is he, Bella. If anyone can tell you, it's me. Believe me."

#WL#

After inspecting the deep tub in the bathroom of Edward's room and deeming it clean enough, I turned on the faucet and poured nearly an entire bottle of the body wash provided by the hotel into the hot stream. The soap has a minty smell, which is nice, because it's kind of invigorating and while I wanted to be able to relax a bit before going out, I don't want to be lulled to sleep in the process. I'm the only one who has escaped the technical meeting everyone else is currently having in Jasper and Alice's room – there's no need for me to be present, I don't have much to add when Jasper's asking Edward about light filters and how that will translate to the post-filming effects Rosalie has in her editing toolkit.

I'm only about half-way done shaving my right leg when there's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Um…yeah?" I call. Although I'm pretty sure it can't be anyone besides Edward, that was an awfully quick meeting.

"It's Edward. Can I come in?"

"Uh…no."

"No? I can hear you splashing around."

"No. I'm shaving my legs."

"What? Then why can't I come in?"

"Because, you're not supposed to see me doing things like this. It ruins the illusion."

"I'm not harboring any illusions, Blackbird."

"Should I be offended by that?"

"No. Definitely not. Seeing you shave your legs will not make me find you any less attractive."

"Why do you want to come in so bad?"

It's quiet for a second.

"Because, Blackbird, I haven't gotten to spend any time alone with you today."

His voice is soft through the door and my resolve crumbles.

"Fine. Come in."

He opens the door and comes over to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet next to the tub. He looks a little tired, but he gives me a crooked grin and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He scratches his fingers through his stubble and then back through his hair before he clasps his hands in front of him. He watches me carefully as I lift my leg out of the water again, resting it on the edge of the tub and bending it at the knee before I squirt a little soap into my hand and lather it against my skin. I grab my razor and run it carefully, slowly, from my ankle to my knee, then again.

"How was the meeting?" I ask and he shifts his eyes from my leg to look at me.

"Oh, it was okay. Not too involved yet."

"How do the dailies look?" I drop my right leg back into the water and raise my left leg against the other side of the tub. Edward unclasps his hands and moves the one closest to the tub to sit against the edge of the cool porcelain, brushing one of his long fingers against my ankle bone as I move the suds over my skin.

"Good. Jasper's really pleased with the way it's going. The whole self-guided thing, well, for the most part, is working out well. He thinks the network will like it for its appeal to the sort of 'do-it-yourself' traveler. Jasper's words, not mine."

"Well, I'm having a really good time so far. Dublin is one of the grittiest places I've been, but in another way, it's also the most beautiful. You're lucky you got to spend so much time here as a kid."

"Yeah, I know. I wish Gram and Grandpa were still alive, so I could introduce them to everyone, to you. You would have loved my Gram. She was something else."

"I'm sure I would have. I mean, they raised your dad and he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met. And I know how much you loved her."

He smiles a little wistfully. I know he misses his grandparents, particularly his grandmother.

"Watch your finger, bud," I say, swiping the razor down against my calf where his finger has wandered upward. He moves it back down to my ankle and continues his slow, back and forth motion with his fingertip while I finish up. His gaze is fixed down and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he were staring at my lady bits, but it looks like he's zoned out.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, babe?" I ask him, trying out a new name for him. I considered it while I was sitting here earlier. I wanted something that friends would never call each other. It's not exactly creative, but I think it fits him. Endearing, but not too sappy. Just our style, or at least I hope it is. Now that it's come out of my mouth I find myself holding my breath a bit waiting to see what he thinks.

"Babe?" he looks up at me, head cocked just a bit to the side.

"Yeah. I like it. But I won't call you that if you don't want me to."

His crooked grin creeps onto his face. "No. No, I like it. I want you to call me that."

"Okay. Good," I beam at him. "So, why're you so quiet?"

He shrugs. "I'm just taking it all in, I guess. I'm tired, and it's been a really long day, but for the first time in a while, I feel really happy. Not just on the cusp of happy."

"I know exactly what you mean," I tell him, moving my leg down into the cooling water. I draw my knees up to my chest and clasp my arms around my knees. "Go get changed, okay? I'm going to finish up and this time, no watching. I can't show you all my tricks." I reach for my smaller, bikini line razor.

He slides over to sit on the edge of the tub and leans over me, one hand on each side to hold himself up. I tilt my head up to him and he presses a soft kiss against my lips that makes me shiver even though the water isn't _that_ cold. After a few seconds he releases my lips and stands up to leave.

"Alright, I'll go. But for the record, there was something strangely sexy about that whole last bit with your legs."

"Well, that's good, I guess. I do it all for you, you know."

"Really? You don't do it for yourself? I thought you women were into doing things for yourselves these days."

I shrug. "I suppose. It's kind of indirect. It makes me feel good if you think I'm pretty. Just don't tell the other womenfolk I said that." My feminist literature professors would barf if they could hear me now.

"I don't just think you're pretty, Blackbird. I think you're absolutely beautiful." He winks at me.

I'm not awesome with flattery, so I just say what seems polite.

"Thank you." It comes out just above a whisper.

"And I would think that even if you didn't shave your legs. Probably. Let's not test the theory though, okay?" He's on the verge of that little giggle he does when he thinks he's said something particularly funny.

I flick a handful of water at him and he uses the door as a shield. "Get out of here, you jerk!"

My laughter is still ringing off the tiled walls when he closes the door and leaves me be.

#WL#

I've almost finished my makeup when Edward knocks on the door again.

"Come in," I say, leaning over the sink to get up closer to the mirror. I need my eyeliner to be perfectly straight. It will drive me up the wall if it isn't.

"Your mom's calling," he says and holds out my vibrating cell phone.

"Thanks." I take the phone from him, press accept and cap my eyeliner. "Hey, Mom."

"Bella!" my mother trills into the phone. "Are you having a good time in Ireland?" There's a lot of noise in the background and it sounds like she's in car.

"Yeah. It's great so far. Really beautiful," I say distractedly, sorting through my brushes to find the one I use for my sheer, lilac eye shadow.

"That's great, honey! Say, listen, I've got a favor to ask you!" When my mother gets really excited about something, everything is said with exclamation. Unfortunately for me, that in combination with her asking me for a favor can never be a good thing. It means she's up to something.

"What is it?"

"Are you busy on February 20th?"

Now, I know better than to say that I'm free before finding out what she wants. Saying I'm free before knowing her plans has trapped me into having to attend gruelingly long minor league baseball tournaments with her nice but conversationally-challenged husband Phil, weekend long new-age 'getaways' with no technology access when she decided she wanted to get 'back to basics', and other things of similarly horrific natures.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. I've already got a few things planned for when I get back to New York." Like lying in bed with Edward, making out with Edward, and possibly, more lying in bed with Edward. Maybe some laundry here and there.

"Oh! That's too bad. You remember my friend Sheila?"

"The one from the golf club?" Renee decided to take up golfing last summer.

"That's the one! Her son is visiting New York that week and I thought you'd be a perfect tour guide!"

Ah, there it is. The only passion Renee has stuck with in the last ten years is finding me a boyfriend. She never misses a chance to try to set me up, even when she lives a thousand miles away. Because I don't tell her about every time a guy speaks to me, she assumes it doesn't happen and has taken it upon herself to remedy what she sees as my one major flaw – singlehood.

"Oh. Sorry, mom. I can't. I've got plans with Edward. We're seeing each other." Might as well get it out now.

The line is silent for a solid thirty seconds. "You're seeing Edward? I thought he was your best friend. Well, besides Alice."

"He is."

"And you guys are dating now?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Seriously?"

"What? Seriously as in am I telling the truth or seriously as in it is serious?"

"Is it serious?"

I sigh. "Yeah, Mom. I think it is."

The high pitched shriek that comes over the phone barely sounds human. "Oh, Bella! I'm so excited for you! He is such a _fox_!"

I can't help but laugh, because I'm excited too. And for once, she's right. He is a fox.

"Thanks, Mom. Listen, I have to finish getting ready. Tell your friend I'm sorry I can't help. I'm sure they'll find their way around alright."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure you're right! Ahhh! This is just so great!"

"Calm down, Mom. I'm not getting married or anything." I roll my eyes at my own reflection.

"Sorry! Sorry! Okay, I'll talk to you later honey! Keep me updated! Bye!"

I end the call, shake my head and go back to my makeup. Edward comes into the bathroom and pulls his toothbrush out of his travel case, smears some toothpaste onto it and begins to brush his teeth.

"Well, my mom knows about us," I tell him flatly, tilting my head to put on my mascara.

"Oh?"

"Yep. She was very excited. Very. Excited. And I'm not sure how many sexual favors I owe you for saving me from more of her setups, but it's probably a lot."

Edward laughs as he spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth.

"You're right. It probably is."

#WL#

We bar hopped a bit in Temple Bar, and I was pleased to see that the bars in Dublin were considerably different from those in New York. The energy was more casual and the men, while maybe a little too eager to flirt, were far more polite than what I was used to in the States. Only once did Edward have to stare down a guy who got a little up close and personal when I went to stand at the crowded bar, shouting my order over the noise of the patrons seated at the counter and the music from the live band shoved in the corner. The guy was a little handsy but it didn't take much to get him to back off – Edward probably had a good seven or eight inches on him.

The day had been so busy that I hadn't had a ton to eat, mostly snacks here and there aside from the lunch break we took earlier, and half-way through my second Guinness, I was pretty tipsy.

I sipped a glass of water while the group finished up and I looped my arm through Edward's as we walked out of the bar and onto the cobblestone streets. The uneven bricks were hard to walk on in the heels I'd worn, even though they weren't terribly high, only about three inches.

Edward stopped suddenly in the middle of the street and crouched down, balancing himself with a hand against the wall of a chemist shop.

"Hop on" he told me, turning his back to me.

"No. I'll hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. You're not that heavy."

I teetered up to him, my head still feeling fuzzy, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I tucked one leg around his waist and he gripped my thigh then stood up, lifting my other foot off the ground before grabbing my other thigh in his hand so that both of my legs were wrapped around him.

I tightened my grip around his neck and laid my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes as he walked forward, my body moving up and down just slightly with his steps.

The next thing I knew, we were back in his hotel room. He set me down and we each undressed, not bothering with pajamas. We crawled into bed, me in just my panties and him in his boxers.

We didn't have sex that night. We just lay there together, his bare chest against my naked back with his arm around me and his hand cupping my breast, holding me to him. The last thing I felt as I drifted off to sleep were his deep, even breaths against the back of my neck. It was divine.

* * *

><p><strong>Review if you've got a minute - I love to hear from you!<strong>

**LA**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! I don't have much to say for myself on the lack of updates for the last couple of weeks other than that I'm sorry. I really mean it too, I am really, really sorry. Unexpected things just kind of got in the way, ruined computers and such. **

* * *

><p><strong>I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and intended for mature audiences over the age of 18 only.<strong>

* * *

><p>WANDERLUST<p>

CHAPTER 8

The next morning, I wake up spread out nearly diagonally on my back, with my head on the far edge of the bed and my right leg crossed over Edward's leg which has migrated to my side of the bed. Edward is face down with his head turned away from me and his arms are spread to his sides, one dangling over the mattress edge and the other attached to my boob, albeit a different one that it was attached to last night. I stretch my leg a little further until my toes just touch the inner thigh of his left leg and wiggle them a bit, trying to tickle him. It works and he stirs, drawing in a huge breath and flexing his fingers against my chest before he draws his hand away and folds his pillow over his head, mumbling something about more sleep.

"Oh, I see how it is," I say out loud. I can tell by the cadence of his breathing that he's not really gone back to sleep, at least not entirely. I reach down to pull the blanket back over my body. The morning air in the room is chilly. "You get me all excited with a quick grope and then leave me hanging. Okay. That's fine. Whatever."

He releases his pillow from its hold and turns to face me. His jade eyes are sleepy but he's got that cocky sideways grin on his lips.

"Excitement, huh? Is that what that is?" he rasps in his gravelly morning voice. God, I love his morning voice. He reaches out and tweaks my nipple between his fingers. "I thought you were just cold."

"Well, I _am_ cold," I slap his hand away, "seeing as how my _boyfriend_ is a blanket hog." The larger comforter has been all but pushed off of the bed on Edward's side except for where it covers the bottom part of this left leg.

Suddenly he's up with his knees on either side of my hips and his hands next to my ears, hovering over me. He reaches behind him and pulls the sheet over our heads and I shiver as the rush of cool air that came in as the billowing sheet settles again.

"This isn't helping," I smirk and look up at him against the stark white sheet, illuminated in the bright sun coming through the window.

"I think I know something that would warm you up."

"You do?" My smile turns coy as I look down and eye the bulge in the front of his boxers. I reach up and run my fingers down the center of his abdomen, past his navel and through the trail of hair leading down to what I want the most. "What's that?"

"A tickle fight," he says and immediately attacks the sides of my ribs with his long fingers.

"NO! Stop! STOP!" I thrash around as much as possible, which isn't much since he's got me clamped between his legs and I'm laughing and gasping and begging for mercy. "Uncle! UNCLE!"

"My name's not uncle, it's Edward," he says and continues his onslaught.

"EDWARD!" I shriek and try to grab his hands, but he finally stops. "Tickle fight? You are such a _girl_." I huff but smile at him so he's knows I'm not mad. "If you wanted me to scream your name, there's better ways to make that happen."

"Hmm," Edward hums and lowers his mouth to my own and we kiss for just a couple of seconds before he moves lower, planting one on my jaw, then my neck, and then my collar bone. "Like what, exactly?" His lips ghost down my sternum to the valley between my breasts but he doesn't spend much time there before he begins kissing toward the peak, teasing the puckered skin with the tip of his tongue.

I groan and arch my back a bit, pushing my chest closer to his face and he finally wraps his lips around my nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it while it's in his mouth before he releases it with a pop and moves on to the other one. My fingers gravitate toward his head as though his thick hair was some sort of magnet for them and I wind through the soft strands until I've got him virtually trapped against me. He doesn't look like he minds.

Every now and then, when he shift, his hips come close enough to me that I can feel him bump against me and I use the hand that isn't in his hair to palm him through his boxers, fumbling with the slit in the front pouch of the boxers before I give up and just shove my and down the elastic waistband.

Edward finally detaches himself from my boobs and sits up on his knees, pulling at my panties. My legs go up and I just about kick him in the face trying to get them off, but they're finally gone and my legs are on either side of him now, making room for him between my thighs. There's a sense of urgency to this all of the sudden and our hands scramble to get rid of his boxers, settling at leaving them half-way down his thighs before I've got him in my hand, sliding the head against my pussy until he's in the right place. He drives into me until his body is flush with my own and I release a high-pitched sigh of pure ecstasy while I stretch my arms above my head and arch my back.

"Oh my God, that's so fucking good," I say, a little deliriously, as he swivels his hips in a couple of circles before he abruptly pulls out. I look up at him in crazed confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I can't move around the way I want to," he says and slides off the bed. He stands at the end before he leans over to wrap his fingers around my waist and I squeal as he pulls me all the way down until my ass is at the edge of the mattress. He stands between my legs and slides right back in, going for a couple of short strokes. It's good, but I want him deeper and I hook my hands in the crook of my knees to draw my legs out to the side and up as far as I can. His breathing gets a little rougher when the tip of his cock goes as far as it can and he releases his grip on my waist to press the heel of his palm just above my pubic bone as he pushes in. He's done this a couple of times before and it's always good but with the way I've got my legs drawn up, it feels amazing. It's like I can feel everything ten times stronger, like every little ridge on his cock is rubbing me in just the right way.

"Fuck, I can feel myself against my hand," Edward groans as he pistons his hips against me and I try desperately to hold my shaking legs in place. Edward or I usually have to play with my clit before I can come but I don't think I'll need it today.

Edward presses his hand down a little harder just as the head of his cock passes my g-stop and I'm a goner.

"Edward! Edward, oh, FUCK!" I shriek while my pussy grips him and refuses to let go. He clamps his hand down over my mouth, muffling my screams. It's a good thing he does because I don't want to wake people up, but there is no way I can control myself right now. He gets a few more erratic thrusts in, earning a yelp from me each time, before his face contorts and he shoves himself to the hilt and releases into me.

He takes his hand off of my mouth, removes himself from my body and leans over me. We are both out of breath, chests heaving as we stare at each other a little wide-eyed.

"Are you warm yet?" Edward asks with a smirk.

I burst out laughing and he groans, pulling my thighs around his waist then snaking his hands around my back to pull me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips against his, still giggling a bit, as he lifts me off the bed and walks us into the shower.

#WL#

We all pile into the van and Edward drives us out to Kilmainham Gaol where we're given a private tour by a girl about my age named Cora. She has pink streaks in her hair and what looks like a clear barbell in her eyebrow, probably taking the place of a more substantial metal one when she's not at work. Surprisingly, she doesn't have an Irish accent and actually, I'd put money down she's from Boston. Sure enough, when I ask her about it, she reveals that she has a PhD in history from Harvard. She's from a stereotypical Irish-American, Boston-based family. Needless to say, her decision to accept a position as a historian and curator at the Gaol after defending her thesis on the Irish uprisings of the early 1900s was one that was strongly supported by her family.

Cora begins by seating us in a small chapel where she tells us stories of the prisoners who said some of their last prayers here. She recounts the romantic and tragic story of Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford, married in the chapel only hours before Joseph was executed for his part in the 1916 Easter Uprising. Cora knows the stories so well, as if they were her own, and I feel myself becoming wrapped up in them. A lump forms in my throat as I think of Grace and what it must have been like for her to stand here in this plain, cold room, facing an ending when it should have been their beginning.

From the chapel, we move through the older parts of the prison and I'm shocked at how horrible the conditions are. I can't imagine what they must have been like in the 1800's, when they wouldn't have had lights, insulation would have been worse and therefore things a lot more cold and damp than they already are, and the cells would have been packed.

Newer parts of the prison are considerably better, but still pretty terrible, and the tour culminates in the prison yards, right where the executions Cora had told us about took place. I leave Kilmainham in a considerably more somber mood than I'd arrived – not that I'd expected a jail to be a happy place - but I'm ready to do something a little more light-hearted. I'm also ready to get something to eat because I've got a bit of a headache and I'm feeling sort of lightheaded.

We say goodbye to Cora and get into the van to find lunch. Jasper drives after Edward points out to him the place that we're going and Edward sits with me in the back seat while I lean my head back and close my eyes.

"You alright, Blackbird?" Edward asks, running his fingertips lightly across the back of my hand on the seat between us. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine. I just shouldn't have skipped breakfast, that's all." I turn my hand over and he laces his fingers with mine. He scoots a little closer to me and I lay my head on his shoulder while Jasper makes his way to the pub for lunch.

We go to the Brazen Head, a beautiful little pub with baskets of overflowing flowers hanging on either side of the stone archway entrance. The building looks like it might have been a carriage house at one point and a plaque affixed beside the entry declares it to be the oldest pub in Ireland, having been founded in 1198. I follow behind Edward, grasping at his fingers as we weave through a surprisingly busy crowd for being between lunch and dinner. We make our way through a small outdoor seating area and into the pub, choosing a small table in the corner. It's better suited for four people than six, but we're not exactly strangers to cramming together so we make it work.

I'm about half-way through my Irish stew when the muscles in my lower abdomen clench and I clutch my stomach, sucking in a sharp breath until it passes. I remember the tampons in my bag. That explains the headache, I guess. Periods aren't usually something I need to think about – I had terrible ones as a teenager and had been getting the shot since I was about sixteen to help with that. When I first started, the doctor told me that some women stopped getting their periods altogether on the shot. I held out hope for that, but wasn't quite that lucky. I still got one every few months, but that was way better than twelve times a year.

I twist in my chair to bring my purse in front of me and dig for some type of pain killer. I find three lighters (ridiculous, because I don't smoke), Kleenex, about fifty billion hair pins, a ring with so many rhinestones on it that it could blind someone if the light shown on it just right, but no pain killers. I really need to get my purse priorities straight.

"What are you looking for?" Rose asks me quietly, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I need some aspirin or ibuprofen or something," I tell her, grimacing as my abdominal muscles protest even my slight twisting movement to put my purse back down. I did find a tampon in my purse, buried in the bottom of one of the inside pockets and Rose eyes it and then me with pity. She knows what it's like for me – she and Alice came over for a night of chick-flick movies and take-out a few months ago but I ended up whining and moaning on the couch for a few hours before they convinced me to just go to bed. That's my problem with the shot. I can't expect it. It's just, bam! Out of commission.

"Oh, Bella. That sucks," Rose's voice is full of sympathy as she shakes two pills out of a travel-sized ibuprofen bottle in her own purse. She looks up at me then shakes two more pills out. "You better take all of these."

I shove all four pills in my mouth and take a big swig of my water to try to wash them down. I have to jerk my head back a couple of times – I've never been good at swallowing pills. It's like some sort of deep seeded fear of choking or something, I don't know. I shouldn't have put all four in my mouth at once, that's for sure. It's going to take me more than one try to finish them.

I stand up to use the restroom and Edward stops talking to Jasper and looks at me with concern, but doesn't say anything. I hurry in the rest room and come back to the table. I don't bother with finishing the stew I ordered, even though what little I had was very good.

"Edward, do you want the rest of this?" I nudge him and shove my bowl toward him.

"Why? You aren't hungry anymore?" He frowns a bit.

"Nah. I'm not really feeling very well. Female problems," I whisper and shove the bowl a little closer to him. "Go ahead. It's really good."

The hint of a grossed-out look cross his features in a typical guy reaction to the mention of anything to do with 'female problems'. It fades quickly and he takes the bowl and lifts the spoon to his lips for a bite before I feel the fingers of his free hand creep over and massage little circles into the small of my back.

"Jasper, what time are we supposed to pick up the RVs?" Edward asks between bites.

"We can pick them up anytime. They said as long as it was after eleven o'clock, they'd have them ready. After we pick them up, we'll make our way toward Wicklow. We need to be there by eight thirty tonight, but it doesn't take long to get there."

Edward glances at his watch and over to me. "Do you want to go over and check out at the hotel? The sooner we get checked out and get to the RV, the sooner you can lay down for awhile."

"I'm okay, don't worry about it," I tell him, lying through my teeth.

Now, I'm not exactly a lightweight when it comes to pain. I was kind of clumsy as a kid and had to 'walk it off' so many times, I can't even tell you. I once twisted my ankle so badly that it actually fractured but I'd spent almost a week walking around on it thinking the pain wasn't really that bad. This, on the other hand, felt like someone had put my stomach muscles in a vice and was ripping my ovaries out of my body simultaneously. I was all for the idea of getting the RV and lying down.

The guys got up to pay the tab while Alice, Rose and I stayed at the table so Rose could finish her drink.

"What are we doing in Wicklow?" I ask, glancing at Alice. "It doesn't specify on the itinerary."

"I'm not entirely sure," Alice says while she uses the end of her unused knife to draw trails through the puddles of condensation left by the beer glasses on the table.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Rose says, raising an eyebrow at Alice. "You're the associate producer."

Alice shrugs. "Jasper says it's kind of a surprise. Something historical, though."

"Alice, we're in Ireland. You'd be hard pressed to think of anything here that isn't at least, I don't know, two hundred years old." Rose rolls her eyes. "Hell, I'm sure the club we were at last night has something historical about it."

"Hmm. Yeah. But it's something more interactive, I gather. He says we'll all be on camera at some point, not just Bella."

Well, that's new. There have been flashes of almost everyone except for Edward (him being the one actually operating the camera) at one point or another during the show, but no one's ever explicitly participated in what's going on on camera. I'm curious as to what Jasper's plan might be and thankful for the timing. It'll give me a chance not to have to be the center of attention for a few hours, particularly now that I have to actually work to keep the occasional grimace off of my face from the pain.

When the guys come back to the table, we gather up our stuff and head back to the hotel. Our things are easily packed up since no one really unpacked to begin with – the only thing I have to do is just zip my suitcase. We all meet back in the lobby and everyone hands their room keys to Jasper, who teases me and says I now owe him three hundred Euros for an unused room.

The van we rented for the last couple of days isn't large enough to hold everyone's luggage and Jasper's arranged for a hotel service to pick it up here at the hotel. The concierge calls three cabs and we all pile into them in the same pairs we came from the airport in.

"Where can I take you, sir?" the young driver asks Edward as Edward folds his long legs into the back seat of the small taxi. I'm actually a little surprised our bags fit into the trunk of this one.

"The airport, please. To the camper van and car rental pickup."

The driver nods and pulls away from the curb, narrowly missing a bicyclist who is winding down the center of the narrow street, presumably without looking where he's going. He's got one hand on the handlebars and the other is holding his cell phone to his un-helmeted head.

"What a fucking idiot," I growl from my seat in the back, then meet the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Him. Not you. Sorry." I stutter. I'm usually better at watching my mouth around strangers.

"No need to apologize when it's the truth."

The traffic is lighter now than it was when we first arrived in Dublin and the drive to the airport isn't long. Alice and Jasper were the first to leave the hotel and their taxi has already left – Alice is sitting on the pile of her and Jasper's suitcases stacked up on the sidewalk in front of a row of campers of various sizes. I notice that none of them are particularly large, but they're certainly enough for two people. Besides, I understand having a smaller vehicle is better on some of the lesser used Irish roads we'll be traveling on, particularly in the west.

Emmett and Rose, who arrived last, are just finishing getting their bags unloaded out of their taxi when Jasper storms out of the rental office, looking fully pissed off. Considering the fact that Jasper isn't riled up easily, this is concerning. He shoves his backpack off the top of the luggage stack and sits down next to Alice.

"Okay. Slight change in plans. Not in the route…just in the method of travel," Jasper stands back up again.

"The method?" I ask, staring at the single key in the Jasper's hand. One. As in, not three. For three different RVs. This is not good.

"The reservationist didn't put in our order correctly. She didn't order us three of the smaller campers like I asked. She ordered one larger one."

"What?" Emmett, Rose and Alice all exclaim in unison.

"Well, there's a whole line right here," I say, pointing out the mini-fleet behind Alice. "Can't they just rent you a couple more?"

Jasper shakes his head. "These are all pre-rented. I paid extra for them to drive it all the way over here from Shannon. It would take at least an extra day for us to get two more."

"Will it fit all of our luggage? And is there a bed for each of us?" Edward asks, considerably more calmly than Alice, Emmett and Rose were upon first hearing the news.

"I'm told it should and yes, apparently so. We'll have to see the actual configuration to know."

We all follow Jasper to the camper at the far end of the line near our luggage pile and it dawns on me that we don't have one larger one to use that's actually, well…large.

"This is just getting better and better," Rose deadpans as Jasper unlocks the door and steps inside.

When I climb up the stairs into the camper van, it becomes clear that we're going to have to be creative with where we are storing our things. There's a small table with a couch opposite. A small kitchenette (and by small I mean a single stove burner and a piece of counter that's only about one or two feet squared) and what I'm guessing is the bathroom behind that. The only bedding I see is what appears to be a cushioned sleeping area above where the driver's seat is and is maybe about the size of a double bed. At the back of the camper, a set of twin bunk beds face the kitchenette and bathroom door.

"Um, I only see beds for four people," Alice says, annoyance clear in her tone.

"I'm sure this couch or table converts into a sleeping area," Edward tells her and steps over to lift up the cushions on the couch.

"Pull tab to release," Edward reads off of the manufacturer's description of the pull-out bed underneath. "What'd I tell you?"

"So," Emmett speaks up as he reclines in the passenger's seat up front. "Who has to sleep in the twin beds?"

#WL#

In the end (which really was pretty quickly into the conversation), Edward and I offered to sleep in the twin beds. After all, it wasn't like we were going to be having any sex for the next couple of days. Not that any of the rest of them would, not with our current set up.

The daylight was beginning to dim in a beautiful, fiery sunset by the time we finally got everything arranged so that everyone had access to their stuff but still had enough sleeping room. Edward took the driver's seat, having been volunteered by Jasper to drive us through town and down the N11 to Wicklow. It couldn't have taken more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half to get there.

We pulled into a parking lot behind a tiny row of shops and restaurants where Edward said we should probably just park for the night. I opted to stay in the camper and nap when everyone got out to get some dinner in the small pub where some loud, rhythmic music was pouring from the open back door. I still wasn't hungry after lunch and wasn't really feeling any better either. I wish I'd brought a few of the muscle relaxers my doctor had prescribed for me – the painkillers I took earlier didn't do shit.

When I woke back up, the camper was still parked, but I could see through the back window that was just at the foot of the bunk beds that it was in a different spot. Across the street, there was a large stone structure, with what looked to be tall walls that curved into a main structure with barred windows and a single, small door under a stone arch.

Edward came to the back where the bunks were and crouched down beside me, reaching out to stroke his fingers against my arm.

"Blackbird, we're ready to start filming again in about twenty minutes," he spoke softly.

"Where are we?" I asked, a little groggily after my extended nap.

"Wicklow Gaol." His face looked a little grim. Maybe he didn't think we should be wasting time going here, since we were just at Kilmainham Gaol today. I mean, a jail is a jail, right? What more could you see? Wouldn't this be boring for viewers?

I sat up slowly and swung my legs off the bed to slip my shoes back on. I stood up to go meet the others outside, but Edward stood still in front of me, blocking my path.

"Bella, if Jasper has planned what I think he has, I want you to remember that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"What?" I look at him like he's crazy. "Jasper has never made me do anything I didn't want to do."

"I mean it, Bella." He must really be serious if he's calling me by my actual name.

"Okay." I slip past him but take his hand and lead him out to join the others. There's a middle aged women with short black hair, not entirely different from Alice's, standing and talking with the group. Their smiling and laughing a little and when they see Edward and I approach, the woman's face lights up.

"Well, this must be Bella and Edward!" She extends her hand to me and I take it with my free hand and shake it, not letting go of Edward. "I'm Mary."

"Nice to meet you," I say, still thinking about Edward's earlier warning. I wonder what it could be and I wonder why he didn't just tell me what he thought I'd be so objectionable to.

"Now that everyone is here, I can finally tell you why _I'm_ here. We'll be joined by a number of other curators tonight, but I will stay with you the whole time. I will be the psychic investigator for your tour."

"The psychic investigator?" I ask, wondering why the hell we need a psychic to tour a jail.

"Of course. I'll be the main facilitator for your paranormal investigation tour."

"What?" I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Your paranormal investigation tour," she repeats. "Wicklow Gaol is one of the most haunted places in Ireland."

Alice squeals with delight, and flings herself onto Jasper, planting noisy kisses on his cheek. She loves all this ghost stuff. She watches hours and hours of that show with that bro who wears Affliction shirts and always says he's nauseous when he goes into a haunted place. She can't get enough.

Rosalie's eyes spark with a sort of milder interest than Alice, but she looks excited all the same.

I, on the other hand, have a fear of ghosts. In fact, you might even call it fear to the point of irrationality. If I watch even a marginally well made movie about haunting and what not, I can't sleep well for days. I might finally understand what the ghost hunter guy means when he always says he's going to barf, because I think I might and it isn't the cramps this time.

There is one problem though. No one but Edward knows that the one thing that scares the absolute shit out of me is paranormal ghost stuff. I'm not really the kind of girl to admit to my weaknesses. I go along to all the scary movies with everyone else, no matter how much I know I'm going to regret it. The only reason Edward knows about my fear is because he's the one who I always lure to my apartment to stay with me after viewing said movies.

I can't even be mad at Jasper for this. He didn't know I wouldn't like it as much as Alice or Rose. He's even seen me watch that ghost hunting show with Alice a lot, but in my defense, that show is just stupid. Even if ghosts are scary.

I wish I was the kind of person who could just admit to everyone that this scares me and I don't want to go. But I can't make myself do it. I'm standing out here, ready to go. Jasper wants to shoot this for the show. I vaguely hear Mary saying that they run this tour multiple times a night, and that makes me feel a little better. If this many people are going in there every night, it can't be that scary, right?

Edward squeezes my hand but doesn't nudge me forward at all.

"Blackbird, you don't have to. No one will be upset. You can just go back to the RV."

"This is one of the most haunted places in Ireland?" I ask, looking up at him.

"That's what they say."

"Then what's stopping a ghost from walking across the street? I want to stay with you."

He chuckles a little bit. "I don't think ghosts are in the habit of haunting RVs."

"Well, this would be the one time they do. I'm staying with you."

"Okay. I'll keep you safe." He tucks me under his arm and we follow the group to the front door.

I take a deep breath and as we step through the threshold and turn my face into Edward's side just a bit. A curator who was waiting for us to step through re-locks the doors behind us.

"There we go, all locked up," he says cheerily. "Follow me to the gate to hell. Or at least, that's what the prisoners called it."

Awesome. There's nothing I like better than stepping through gates to hell.

I'm gripping Edward so tightly, I'm sure there will be little half-moon marks in his the skin along his torso from my nails.

This is really, really going to suck.

* * *

><p><strong>Review if you've got a minute! I always love to know what you think.<strong>

**LA**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy President's Day weekend to all of my fellow Americans! I actually think it's a pretty lame holiday, but hey - I'll take a day off, no questions asked. I won't keep you long here, A/N at the end!**

* * *

><p><strong>I don't own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and not intended for readers under 18. Enjoy!<strong>

* * *

><p>WANDERLUST<p>

CHAPTER 9

Once we're through the front gates and into the actual prison, it's really not so hellish looking. I mean, I know it would have seemed drastically different when the jail was actually operating, but if I'm being honest, it seems light years better than Kilmainham. Of course, the curator wastes no time in letting us know all about how many people were mistreated, malnourished and overworked. Apparently, if the typhoid didn't get you, starvation would.

We tour some of the various rooms where mannequins dressed in period clothing are placed to forever reenact some of the hardships endured by the prisoners and I listen intently to the curator's voice as he talks about how many people they would try to cram into one of the tiny cells and how they eventually just started shipping people off to Australia. I realize that I'm not being the most interesting person for the camera right now, but Edward is filming Alice, Rose, Jasper and Emmett as much as he's filming me. Every now and then, when I look back at him, I'll catch him glancing at me, his eyebrows creased just enough for the worry lines in his forehead to be faintly visible. I know he's watching me for signs of distress, but there hasn't been anything all that frightening up to this point.

We go into a room made up to look like a transportation ship and Mary mentions that a lot of people get a sort of nauseated, headachy feeling when they come into this room. Something about the energy of the spirits here that does it. I'm just in front of the camera enough that I'm in the shot, but I've got my arm stretched back and my fingers grasp onto Edward's tightly – I'm sure it's not making his job easy to hold onto the heavy camera with one hand, but he hasn't complained and he hasn't let go.

The curator finishes talking about the prisoners getting sent to Australia and we leave the room with no one saying anything about wanting to throw up or their head hurting. So far so good. By the time we're nearing the end of the tour, I'm feeling a little more confident and I've even let go of Edward to get a closer look at some of the exhibits they've got set up. We're led to the last bit of the tour, cell thirteen, which is apparently one of the most active rooms. I find it a little ridiculous and overly convenient that it happens to be the thirteenth cell that they claim to be so active and as we gather in a circle in the room, I'm beginning to think that I got myself worked up all over nothing.

"The sanitation in the cells was horrific. There might have been fifteen, twenty, even more people held in this cell at one time," the curator looks around ominously. "There were even some instances of a prisoner dying and their body being left there for days, the live prisoners forced to avoid it for fear of catching more disease." Okay, gross. If I didn't feel nauseous in the transportation room, I might now.

"Many people feel unsafe in this cell, as though a menacing presence were nearby. It helps to close the door sometimes, so we think it's probably the guards that they sense. The guards were not the most upstanding people themselves. Probably worse than the prisoners in some cases."

Hmm. Maybe the spirits aren't active tonight. Just as well, I think as I look around the tiny room at the small, barred window on the far wall of the cell.

Rose asks Mary some questions about how she started working as a medium, her 'scariest' experiences in the jail and whether or not she's seen any manifestations when I happen to look up at Alice. She's listening to Mary with rapt attention when she turns her head quickly back toward Jasper.

"What?" She mouths to him, trying not to interrupt.

"Hmm?" he looks down at her.

"Why'd you tap me?"

"I didn't."

I know he didn't. I was looking at them the whole time and he never touched her. And that's when I feel it on my own arm, just a whisper of a touch, only slightly more substantial than a breeze. If Edward didn't have both hands on the camera, I'd think it were him. But as it stands, it isn't. And even worse, there's no one else next to me. No one visible, at least. I can't say it feels menacing or threatening, because it doesn't. It was gentle, even. It doesn't matter though – I'm instantly terrified. I can practically feel the blood run from my face and I do the only thing that feels natural at that point – I reach desperately for Edward, scramble into the safety of his embrace, and burst into tears.

"Bella, what happened?" Rose asks as Edward squeezes me against his chest.

"Something touched me!" I whisper-sob, reasoning that ghosts probably don't like yelling and I certainly don't want to make them angry.

"I think something touched me, too," Alice pipes up, although she sounds more intrigued than scared.

"It's not uncommon in this room," Mary says, "and neither is Bella's reaction. There's an overwhelming sense of sadness that many people feel here."

Well, I wouldn't say I'm feeling sad, exactly, but that is less embarrassing than crying like a little girl, so I guess I'll go with that.

"Blackbird," Edward leans his mouth down close to my ear and brushes my hair back. "I think we're going to go, okay? I think you've had enough."

"O-okay," I hiccough, barely releasing my grip on him as he hands the camera to Jasper.

"Here, man. I'm taking her back to the RV."

"What? We're almost done! We need to finish this!"

"Finish it then. It's not rocket science." Edward says a little harshly before he turns and ushers me out the door, followed by the curator.

"I'll show you the way. Mary, can you finish the tour for the rest of these folks?"

"No problem, no problem at all," Mary says and looks at me sympathetically. "I understand, dear. It's a heavy experience."

I sniffle and try to smile at her then follow Edward's quick stride toward the entrance of the jail. Edward thanks the curator for the escort and for showing us around before we step out into the pouring rain. It hadn't even been particularly cloudy when we went in, but the rain rolls in fast here. Edward keeps me glued to his side until we're in the warm RV when he finally releases me.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his fingers pushing my damp hair back behind my ears and then tracing along my jaw.

"I…I guess so," I say, not really sure. "I'm a little embarrassed."

"It's okay to be scared, Blackbird."

I nod, but don't look at him. He's right, but it doesn't make it any better.

"Do you want to play FIFA? I've got it with me, you know."

I shake my head and pull off my jeans, unzip my bag and pull out my pajama pants.

"Do you want some tea or some hot coca?"

I shake my head and exchange the t-shirt I have on for one of Edward's undershirts that I stole for wearing at night. I packed it before I knew how things between us would transpire on the plane and I was thinking that sleeping in his clothes was the next best thing to sleeping next to him at night. Now that we're on these separate twin bunks, crammed into an RV with two other couples, it's looking like I might have been right. The v-neck of the white t-shirt comes down much further on me and comes to a point just between my breasts. The hem hits me just under my butt and is long enough that if our friends weren't about to be sleeping in here too, I would usually not bother with any pajama pants.

"I just want to lie down and go to sleep," I tell him, feeling my headache from earlier in the day creeping back up on me.

I step into the tiny bathroom to take off my makeup and brush my teeth and when I come out, Edward is laying on the bunk above mine, reading. He's wearing blue scrub pants that I know used to belong to his dad (I noticed they had "C. Cullen" written on the inside waistband when I was doing Edward's laundry last week) and hasn't bothered with a shirt. He has on his thick black-rimmed reading glasses and has the book balanced against his chest with one hand keeping it steady and the other hand tucked under his head.

I crawl into my bunk and under the covers, pulling them all the way up in the back to make sure my neck is covered and scooting around until I've got them tight around me. It's something I used to do when I was little when I was afraid of the dark or maybe what was in the dark.

As strange as it sounds for someone who is so freaked out by them, I was never really sure whether I believed in ghosts or not. I mean, on the one hand, there are probably ways I could explain away what happened tonight. There could have been a breeze, although I've never felt a breeze like that. Like specific contact, on only one part of your arm. On the other hand, I didn't know if I could deny that they existed. My family was Catholic and even though I can't remember the last time me or my parents when to church, I still bought into the stories about and angels and demons and saints who did work from beyond the grave. And they exist, why can't regular old ghosts exist? You can't pick and choose what kinds of spirits you believe in, can you? I guess I just wasn't ruling anything out.

I tried to go to sleep for quite some time and eventually nodded off. It wasn't restful sleep and I was jolted awake by a nervous dream, the details of which I forgot the second I woke up. Tonight's activities put me on edge and now I was stuck in this stupid campervan, directly across the street from the haunted hell where I had quite possibly encountered a ghost, an experience which was just about at the very bottom of things on my 'things-I'd-like-to-do' list.

I consider my options. I can lay here, by myself, and try to go to sleep like I'm not still kind of freaked out. Or, I can admit to being scared shitless and ask Edward to come down here and lay with me. I suppose I don't really have to admit to it anymore since everyone knows. I did burst into tears back there, in front of everyone. Not one of my finest moments. But still, if the rest of them come in here and find us crammed on my little bunk together and it's clear we weren't fooling around, I'll never hear the end of it.

"Edward?" I call softly.

His bunk creaks a bit above me as it shifts with his weight.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" I can hear a light clicking sound and figure he must be texting someone on his phone.

"Playing FIFA," he replies, the soft clicking continuing. "You okay down there?"

I should have known. He hasn't played all day. I don't think Edward's life would be complete without his daily dose of FIFA.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just not sleeping very well."

"Do you want me to come down there?"

"You don't have to. It won't be very comfortable."

"I wasn't asking if I _had _to, Blackbird. I was asking if you wanted me to."

I'm quiet for a minute to at least give the impression that I'm considering it and haven't been desperate for him to come down here for awhile already, but I don't get a chance to answer. The clicking stops and there's a thud against his bunk mattress. His long legs swing over the side and he hops down and hovers over my bed before taking off his glasses and laying them on his bunk. I think he looks so sexy in his glasses, but he only wears them when he's reading or playing a video game.

"Scoot over," he says, and I turn to face away from him, toward the wall. He slips in under the covers behind me and exhales into my hair as he settles with one arm under the pillow our heads rest on and the other slung around my lower ribs. Edward begins to hum quietly and I think I recognize the melody. I listen for awhile longer, trying to place the song, and lace my fingers together with his as my eyelids get heavier. The song is lovely, soft and slow and there's a second where I think I know what it is, but the notes leave my thoughts too quickly and I finally succumb to sleep.

#WL#

"Bella. Hey, Bella!"

My eyes open to find Alice standing over me, already dressed and ready to go.

"Get up and come out to breakfast with me and Rose." She motions to the closed door of the little bathroom across from me.

I'm still coming out of the haze of sleep and I look around, wondering where Edward is since he's clearly not in bed with me.

"Where's Edward?" I ask and Alice points to the bunk above me.

"He was practically falling off the bed and you were totally asleep. Jasper woke him up and convinced him to get into his own bed. All the guys are still sleeping."

I roll off the bed and stretch and see that she's right – Edward is sprawled out, face down on his bunk with his long legs hanging off the end and his blankets kicked off, as usual. Emmett is curled up in a ball and completely covered by the comforter covering the double pull-out bed he and Rose shared and I can hear Jasper snoring from his dark little corner in the bed over the cab.

I grab my bra and put it on underneath my night shirt then cast the shirt aside for a tissue-thin white Henley t-shirt that I have tied at the waist. I pull on my black jeans and sweep my hair into a low pony-tail on the side, knot it, and shove a couple of pins that I dig out of my make-up bag in to hold it in place.

Rose steps out of the little restroom and squeezes past Alice and I to pack her things back into her bag so I take advantage of the mirror over the sink to apply some mascara and a little blush. I don't have time for much more if we want to get out of here before the guys wake up, but it's enough to look presentable.

The damp winter air raises goose bumps on my skin (or maybe it's the prison looming across the street) as we step out of the camper and make our way down from where we are parked on Kilmantin Hill to find somewhere to have breakfast. The hoodie I brought isn't really as warm as I'd like, but the town's not terribly big so I don't think we'll be walking outside too long.

"Bella, I wanted to say that I'm sorry about last night. If I'd known that was what Jasper was planning, I would have suggested something else." Alice looks at me with genuine regret in her eyes.

"Alice, you loved it, don't worry about it."

"No, no. I feel bad and I know Jasper does, too. I was just so excited, you know? I know that stuff freaks you out and I feel like you were put in a position where you had to agree."

"Well, it's done with now. I'll be okay." I say. "Besides, I'm a big girl. I could have said I wasn't going. Tell Jasper it's okay. He didn't know."

We walk along in silence until we come upon a tiny coffee shop and are lured in by the signs promising a full breakfast menu and the smell of some good, strong coffee. A sign directs us to seat ourselves and we choose a table next to the window, looking out at the stone buildings lining the street, some in drab brown and others in bright yellow.

"So, are you going to make Edward cram into that little bed with you every night?" Rose teases, her blue eyes alight. In some ways, it's almost better to get teased than have people feel bad for me.

"Oh, that? That wasn't because I was scared. In fact, I faked that whole thing just to get some alone time with Edward. We were having wild sex just before you came in and he was just getting his strength back to climb back up to his bunk." I know this is going to lead to questions about my sex life, but I don't mind. I'd rather talk about that than my rather childish fear of ghosts.

A waitress comes over to greet us and take our orders and we halt the conversation until she's back behind the counter and out of earshot again.

"Oh, really?" Rose raises an eyebrow at me. "So, how many times did you do it on _my_ bed? I feel like I have a right to know."

"Four," I say, looking her dead in the eye. She continues to stare me down until I break. "Alright. Zero."

All three of us burst out laughing and the waitress smiles at us as she drops off our coffees and then takes our orders. I go with oatmeal and a side of fruit, electing to save my experience with traditional Irish breakfast until the boys are with us. I'll admit I'm a little leery of the puddings but I know the boys will eat what I don't and it won't go to waste.

While we wait for our breakfasts and make-up our coffee the way we like it, Alice pipes up.

"So, Bella. I've got to ask. How did this whole thing start? The whole with Edward, I mean?"

I've just put a particularly large strawberry in my mouth when she asks, and I need a second to chew before I can talk, but she takes it as reluctance to answer.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell us," she says quickly, waving her hand in front of her.

I shake my head back and forth and gulp down my bit of strawberry. "No, it's okay. You guys can ask. Do you remember that time we all went for drinks at that bar over by Bryant Park after work and I was saying how I hadn't dated in over a year?"

Alice and Rose look at each other. "Um, I don't know. I feel like we've had that kind of conversation a few times," Rose says.

"No, remember – all the guys were with us and you said that the reason guys didn't talk to me is because I was intimidating. It was maybe about a month or so after Edward came on board."

They both look at me blankly and I sigh loudly, feigning exasperation.

"Right after we came back from the shoot down in Texas."

"Oh! Yeah!" Realization dawns on both of their faces and they wait for me to continue.

"Well, Edward said he 'liked me the way I was' and that he'd 'hit that'," I use my fingers like quotation marks, "and I thought he was just being nice but when we were in the cab on the way downtown, he said he wasn't kidding."

Rose and Alice's eyes widen a little and they nod for me to continue.

"I asked him if he was drunk, and he said he wasn't. I think we were both a bit buzzed, but it's not like we weren't thinking straight. I don't know – I was just kind of lonely, and I think he was, too. So I took him upstairs, poured us each a shot of tequila, and we went to my room."

"Wasn't it awkward?" Alice asks. She's barely touched her breakfast.

"Maybe a little, but not really. To be honest, there wasn't a lot of time for it to be awkward. I was wearing a dress and he just kind of knelt down and…went for it. Once he'd been up close and personal _down there_, there wasn't much left to be awkward about." Rose and Alice gasp.

"Are you kidding me?" Rose practically shrieks, and then quickly lowers her voice to a stage whisper. "It took me six months to get Emmett to go down on me and you get it right out of the gate?"

"What? Six months?" I blink at her, dumbfounded. I have heard things about Rose and Emmett's sex life that make me blush just to think about, and I am far from shy when it comes to stuff like this. Needless to say, this is a surprising piece of information from Rose.

Alice is gaping at Rose as though she's just heard something horrifying, which, in a way, I suppose she has.

"This isn't about me!" Rose exclaims, holding her hands up and she brings the conversation back around. "So, it must have been good, or else you wouldn't have kept it up, right?"

"It was better than good. Edward is a talented man," I say with what I'm sure is a ridiculously smug grin on my face.

"How often did you guys see each other?" Alice interjects.

"Well, I _saw_ him every day. We always hang out after work and on breaks and stuff. But we only had sex maybe a couple of times a week."

"That's kind of a lot for two people who aren't together," Alice says dryly.

"I guess so," I shrug. "It's not like I really have any experience with that aside from Edward."

We quietly eat our breakfast for a few minutes, watching some people walk past the window. I can tell they're all locals – they don't look around at all and they're walking a little more quickly and with a purpose. The bowl of oatmeal the waitress brought me is huge and I set down my spoon when it's barely half gone.

"What made you think I was in love with him?" I ask Alice. "I mean, I know the accidental phone call tipped you off that we were sleeping together, but just because people are sleeping together doesn't mean they're in love."

"You're right, it doesn't," she says, "but I've suspected you had feelings for him for quite some time. Do you remember when he took that job in Los Angeles, back in college?"

I nod.

"You cried that whole afternoon after he left."

"I did not." I did, actually. I just didn't think anyone had noticed.

"You did so. The walls were thin; I could hear you sniffling in there."

"He was my friend, and he was moving far away," I huff.

"You cried for, like, maybe two seconds when I got on the plane to New York," she says, but she smiling so I know there's no hard feelings. "And that's only because I started crying. You're not a crier, Bella, don't bullshit me."

"I just…I had this feeling like I was never going to see him again. And, really, I'd just got him, you know? I'd only had him for a few months and then he was leaving."

"This is why we knew, Bella," Rose says, smiling gently at me. "Because you've always talked about him possessively. From the second he joined the show, things were different. Sure, he's far more talented than James was. But you're better with him there, Bella. You light up for him and everyone can see it."

"Thank you for pushing me, you guys. I never meant to be stubborn or one of those ditzy girls who doesn't see what's right in front of them. But, honestly, it was hard to believe things could have been this perfect. It's not like me to be so…romantic. And sappy."

"Yeah, well, that's what love'll do to ya," Rose smirks at me. "What do you say we go see what the boys are doing?"

She doesn't have to ask me twice.

#WL#

The boys have Rose and Emmett's bed all folded up and are crowded around Jasper's laptop while he controls a character that is running around on the rooftops of an ancient city. I recognize this one right away – Assassin's Creed. I've watched Edward play it for hours.

"You have to jump off the edge over here, man," Edward says to Jasper, pointing to the side of the roof he's talking about. "Yeah, right there. There's a straw cart under there and you have to hide in there for a second. The guy you want will walk by."

None of them have even bothered to get dressed and they're all still wearing their pajamas, one coffee cup for each of them on the table. It's still early and they've got a bit of time before they need to start getting ready.

Rose lets the RV door close just as Jasper's character jumps out of the haystack and slays the guy on his hit list. All three of them turn to look at us. Edward is wearing his glasses and grins at me with that perfectly imperfect crooked smile. Note to self: ask Edward to wear the glasses in bed. That'll have to wait though. Curse my period and curse sharing an RV with four other people.

My phone rings in my purse and it actually startles me a little. I can't image who would be calling me other than the people right here in this van, and it's the middle of the night in the U.S, no matter which time zone. A pang of worry shoots through me as I rummage through my purse to locate my phone. If it's my mom or dad, why are they calling me so late?

My worry subsides, but just a bit, when I see it's my step-sister, Leah. Leah's mom married my dad when I was a senior in college. In a lot of ways, it was a big surprise because I can't say I was even aware that he was dating until he left me a voicemail message that he and Sue were getting married in a month and they wanted me and Leah to be co-maids of honor. Leah had a harder time with it than I did – her own dad had died a few years earlier and she'd been pretty close to him. She was always very respectful of my dad though and she and I got along well. Leah was a straight shooter and didn't bullshit anyone, and I appreciated that. She was also incredibly intelligent – she was a marine biologist and her research was focused on the activities of the three pods of Orca whales that regularly made their way up the Washington State coast.

I pick up the phone and push the accept button just before it goes to voicemail.

"Leah?" I ask, hoping nothing is wrong.

"Bella! Hey!" Her voice is cheery, at least for her, and my worry dissipates. "I hope I'm not waking you up. Mom said you were in Europe so I thought it might be safe to call."

"Yeah, I was up. I went to bed early last night, so I've been up for a while." I go back and lounge on my bunk. Edward comes back and begins rummaging through his suitcase before he calls up to the rest of the group.

"Hey, you guys, don't look back here for a second."

"Why is there a man telling you not to look at him?" Leah asks.

"He's changing," I say, as I watch Edward push his scrub pants off his hips, peel off his boxers and slip into new ones. Hey – part of the perks of girlfriend status is the right to ogle. "We're all packed in an RV together."

"Oh – fun," Leah says sarcastically. "So, I'm in New York. I was just calling to see when you'd be back, if we could hang out for a bit before I go home?"

"What? You're in the city?"

"Yeah. I was asked to do a lecture series at Columbia on my project. It was kind of last minute, the first person they had fell through. Anyway, I'll pimp my research as much as possible. Gotta raise awareness, you know. "

"Wow! Leah, that's great! How long will you be around?"

"A week. When are you coming back?"

I'm instantly disappointed. I've only seen Leah once in the last two years.

"Not for another week and a half."

"Well, shit. That sucks."

I laugh, but it's half-hearted. "No kidding. Where are you staying?"

"Meh – just this place in Harlem. It's supposed to be kind of a boutique hotel but…yeah. I didn't think that really existed in Harlem. The school booked it for me."

"Why don't you stay at my place?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I don't want to put you out."

"It's no trouble at all. I'll just have my super meet you and let you up. I have a spare key in the bowl on the entry way table so you can just use that."

"Are you sure, Bella? You really don't have to."

"Of course, I'm sure. You'd have to ride the train up there for your lectures, but at least you'd be more comfortable."

"Well, you do have the best bed in the world."

"You're right, I do!" I laugh. Every one of my friends and family knows of the famous most-comfortable bed ever.

"Okay, you sold me."

"Good. I'll call the super today and give him your phone number. We're filming on and off today, but call me if you need me."

"Thanks, Bella. It's too bad we can't see each other."

"I know. I'll have to plan a trip out to Forks sometime soon."

I say my goodbyes to Leah and crawl up onto the upper bunk to sit next to Edward.

"You're planning trips to Forks, huh?" he asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. Leah's in New York this week but she's leaving before we get back. I haven't been back in a long time and it might be nice to go see my dad."

"I was thinking of diverting my plane ticket back to Seattle when we come back from New Zealand. Maybe you could do the same and we can just go together?"

I smile at him and lean in for a kiss. I haven't kissed him yet this morning and it's like there's a magnet pulling me toward him.

"I think that sounds good," I tell him breathily after we pull apart. "You ready to meet my dad?"

"Oh, I've met you're dad," he laughs. "He gave me a speeding ticket on my sixteenth birthday -forty-five minutes after I got my license."

"Ha! Well, it clearly did you no good, Mr. Lead Foot," I tease him. When he actually got to drive, Edward had a tendency to speed. Maybe it was all that pent-up energy from living in the city and not having regular access to a car. I lean forward and kiss him again and he lies back against the bed. "You better not remind him of that. Generally, fathers don't like their daughters to date delinquents."

He smirks at me and reaches out and attacks my ribs with his fingers, tickling me up and down. I shriek with laughter and fall forward onto him, trapping his hand underneath my boobs, and kissing him until my chin is rubbed raw against his stubble.

"Hey!" Emmett's voice booms from the front of the van. "I gladly said I wouldn't look while he was changing, not while you two fooled around. No sexy time allowed!"

"Relax," I tell him, hopping off the bunk. "I'm not an exhibitionist or anything. But you should get your earplugs ready because rumor has it we're staying in a hotel in Cork. It's probably small, too. And old, with thin walls. Our rooms are probably right next to each other."

"Ew. Bella, that's sick. You're like my sister, okay. I do not need to think of you like that. Ever."

"Whatever, man. Just helping you prepare."

He makes a disgusted face and turns back to the gigantic bowl of cereal he's poured himself while I was on the phone.

In the past three days, bringing me and Edward's relationship out of the closet has been nothing but good. He's told me he loves me, and I'm not sure there's anything much better to hear than that. I can touch him whenever I want, hold his hand whenever I want, kiss him whenever I want. And now, I've found the added bonus of extra ammo to tease Emmett with. And believe me, with Emmett, you need all you can get. So far, being Edward's girlfriend is pretty damn awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>Things are going to speed up a bit. We're nearly ten chapters in and they've only been in Ireland for a few days. They've got other places to visit and I don't want this story to have a billion chapters!<strong>

**I'm sorry I've been taking longer to post than usual. Life has just been kind of crazy. And now I have a terrible, terrible cold and I can't breathe when I'm sitting in my usual writing place so I'm not sure how much more will get done this weekend. Thank you for sticking with the story though, and for those of you who are reading Icebreaker, it's coming slower than I expected, but it will still come.**

**Review if you've got a minute, I love to hear what you think!**

**LA**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi! I just wanted to say thanks for the reviews lately, especially to those of you who review nearly every chapter. It's particularly satisfying to know how you're liking it as we go!**

* * *

><p><strong>I don't own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and not intended for readers under the age of 18.<strong>

* * *

><p>WANDERLUST<p>

CHAPTER 10

There is one distinct difference between the RV that we traveled in during the U.S. special that inspired the network to send us road-tripping across foreign countries and the RV we're in now – size. Since the point of the program was always the route and never the means, the RV we had across Route 66 was actually pretty fancy – nearly double the size of the one we're in now and more like the type that a band on tour might have. It's not that the campervan we're in now isn't nice, because it is. And I understand that smaller vehicles are better here for the size of the roads. It's just a little cramped with six people in it even if it technically sleeps that many people. This might have contributed to the sour mood I woke up in this morning, and I don't think I'm the only one.

"I can't wait to get to Galway and out of this fucking RV," Rose complains as she folds up her and Emmett's bed for the day. We never had to fold up our beds on Route 66. "Why didn't you rent two, Jasper?"

"They said it fits six people, he didn't know it would be this crowded," Alice says, stepping in to defend Jasper even though she herself threw a pretty good fit when we pulled up to our booked hotel in Cork and were told that water damage from a leaking roof had rendered our reserved rooms unusable. She groused that she needed alone time with Jasper and now she wasn't going to get it. I absolutely could not stop myself from pointing out that at least she got to sleep on the same bed as her boyfriend, which was one better than me.

I think our entire group was worn out from the busy week we'd had, exploring numerous castles and villages, navigating the rough and winding roads of the Irish countryside. It wasn't that we'd had a bad time – quite the contrary. I'd enjoyed every bit of the breathtaking scenery and the hospitality of the locals who were quick to share a story or a song in the lively pubs that dotted the main streets of the towns we came across. In the last couple days, though, our usually easy going group seemed a little more irritable that usual.

Today we were visiting the Cliffs of Moher, something I had been particularly looking forward to, but I just wasn't feeling it this morning and had been rather sluggish in getting ready. Despite the blue sky we'd been graced with, I dressed warmly and in layers, figuring the wind off of the Atlantic was likely to be particularly cold and opted to wear my soccer trainers for a little extra traction than what was offered by my standard black flats. I didn't like to wear the trainers much since they weren't very feminine (in fact, they were the exact opposite being only a smaller size of the shoes heavily favored by Edward), but I wasn't exactly looking to slip and fall off a cliff.

"Well, didn't you look at any pictures or anything? We should have at least had two of these things," Rose continues, ignoring Alice.

Emmett slams the door of the bathroom open and squeezes himself out of the tiny space to finish getting ready and I turn to jump at my chance to get in there and brush my teeth. What I see sitting on the little ledge next to the sink makes my blood boil.

"Emmett!" I practically scream, grabbing my toothbrush, which had been sitting on the ledge to dry after I used it last night and waving it in front of me. "There are whiskers on my fucking toothbrush!"

"Okay," he says with pure indifference, without even looking at me. "There are two other guys in here. Don't just assume it was me."

"Of course it was you! They're black! Not blonde. Not Auburn. Black!" I look down at my toothbrush and the whiskers mixed in with the bristles. I swear, I almost puke. I have to hold it back.

"So? I cleaned up after myself. I wiped everything off so I didn't have to hear you bitch about it again."

I'd already asked him a couple of days ago to clean his mess after finding the whiskers all over the sink. Bathroom cleanliness is important to me. Sue me.

"Hey, now," Edward warns Emmett from his bunk, where he's digging through his suitcase.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll buy you another one. You could just rinse it off, like a normal person."

"I _am_ a normal person! Normal people clean up after themselves!" I move forward toward Emmett to give him a better look at the disgusting mess he left my toothbrush in.

"Okay, Bella, he gets it," Rose snaps, putting her arm out in front of her between Emmett and me.

I glare at her. "I don't think he does. He clearly doesn't care."

"Baby, it's not a big deal. Use my toothbrush, okay?" Edward pulls his toothbrush out of his bag and tosses it onto my bed.

I turn to face Edward.

"It is a big deal. It's gross. And I asked him not to do it before."

"No, Bella, it really isn't. Just use mine."

"I don't want to use yours. That's gross." I seethe at him, pissed off that he isn't siding with me.

"How is that gross? We kiss each other every day. You kissed me ten damn minutes ago. Any mouth germs I have, you already have."

"It's the principle of the thing. I want my own toothbrush, without Emmett's beard all over it."

"Jesus, Bella." Edward shakes his head, like he's exasperated. "This is the stupidest reason to start a fight. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was PMS." He mutters that last part, almost under his breath.

What. The. Fuck. I stare at him for a moment before I drop my toothbrush into the garbage can under the kitchenette counter, turn and shove open the RV door. Once my feet are on the crunchy gravel of the parking lot I let the door slam behind me and walk quickly towards the cliffs. It's early yet and there aren't any other tourists out, it's just me and the sharp wind, blowing my hair wildly out behind me.

That is, until I hear the RV door open and shut and quick strides following me up the path. I don't need to turn and look to see who it is.

"Edward Anthony Cullen, I do not want to speak to you," I say without stopping or turning around.

"That's fine," he says, his fingers wrapping around my wrist when it swings back with my quick pace.

"Don't touch me!" I say, yanking my arm back and away from him.

He picks up speed and cuts in front of me, stopping me short. I glare at him and clench my fists at my side.

"I didn't mean that," he says, reaching for me, but I jerk back from his touch again.

"That was such a fucking ridiculous, chauvinist thing to say. Just because a woman is upset about something does not mean she has PMS."

"I know. I didn't mean it," he repeats.

"Well, you should think before you speak then. Oh, and for future reference, sticking up for your girlfriend is generally a nice thing to do."

"Bella, it wasn't something to start a fight over. It just wasn't. The arrangement isn't ideal, but we're all in it for another week. We have to try to be flexible. Just let it go."

If he thinks I'm going to let something go just because he tells me to, he's got another thing coming.

"You know what, Edward?" I ask him calmly, cocking my eyebrow.

"What?" There's an edge to his voice he doesn't usually use with me.

"I'm not angry at Emmett anymore."

"Okay." His lips are pressed in a tight line. He's not falling for it. He knows me too well. "But you're still mad at me, right?"

I just look at him, not bothering to say anything.

"Alright," he runs his fingers through his hair. "This is new."

He's right – it is new. Edward and I have never had a fight, not a real one. And somehow it makes me even angrier that he's so calm about it. It's not even about the damn toothbrush anymore – it's about the fact that he didn't stick up for me and now, maybe, it's about how calm he is over this.

His eyes roam my face for a few seconds before he steps to the side and brushes past me back down the path to the RV. Even though I don't really want to, the pull to turn around and watch him leave is too strong and I spin on my heel and watch him move lithely toward where Emmett is now standing outside surrounded by equipment. The only thing to indicate that he might be more upset than he shows is the way he tenses and shoves Emmett's arm away when Emmett tries to playfully punch his shoulder. Their body language is tight, but there are no raised voices. Emmett doesn't seem fazed over our spat at all, but Edward's angrier than he was when I left that RV. Great. This definitely was not the goal.

#WL#

It's a good thing we're at the Cliffs today because the beauty of the sheer drops down to the misty break of the waves against the rock, so far below you can't even hear their noise, is a great distraction for the camera. I can barely muster up a smile for the few minutes I actually have to be in the shot. A bus full of college-age kids pulled up while we got our act together and finally got our equipment up and running. They actually make for some funny shots as I watch them hop down to a path just slightly lower than the main plateau and take pictures with their fingers curled over the edges, like they're hanging on for dear life.

There are signs in a few places that declare that no one should go further, but the worn paths beyond prove that a good amount of people do. Edward wanders beyond the sign and my stomach surges with nerves, watching him move down the path with the heavy camera on his shoulder. I've picked that thing up before – it weighs a lot more than you'd think. It's not a stretch of my imagination to think what could happen if Edward took one wrong step on some loose gravel, just that much too close to the edge.

"Edward! Don't!" I scold, waving at him to come back up. I sound like someone's mother, but I don't care. I might be angry at him but I love him and I don't want him to be a pile of crushed-Edward-bones at the bottom of the cliffs.

To my surprise, his head jerks up to look at me and he immediately turns back around and comes back up to where it's deemed safe. I suppose he's not in the teasing mood today, or maybe he just doesn't want to fight about something else.

When we've all had enough of the views we make our way back to the RV and I fling myself on my bunk once inside. I face the wall, and I can feel a presence behind me, but I don't think it's Edward.

"I'm sorry about the toothbrush, Bells," Emmett says and I can tell he really means it. "I'll get you another one."

"It's okay, Emmett. Thanks." I can see his shadow against the wall and it doesn't move.

"Is there something else?"

"Don't be mad at Eddie because of me," he says.

"I'm not mad at him because of you."

Emmett hesitates for another minute but eventually moves back toward the front of the camper to where everyone has taken their seats for the ride to Galway. The engine hums with life when Jasper starts it up and rolls out of the parking lot toward the road and I figure it must be around nine in the morning in New York. I instinctively reach into the pocket of my hoodie for my phone, thinking I'll call Leah and see how the lecture series wrapped up when I remember that my phone met an untimely demise during my visit to Blarney Castle a few days ago. For future reference, phones tend to fall out of un-zippered jacket pockets while you're being dangled upside-down over a high drop just so you can kiss a rock that's supposed to give you the gift of gab. And what good is the gift of gab if you've got no phone to call anyone on? I never really noticed how dependent I was on my phone until after watching it crash to its death at the walls of Blarney Castle. One of the guides was actually able to get it back for me but no matter – the glass on the screen had completely shattered.

With no phone to mess around on and no desire to socialize with everyone else, I let my eyes drift closed and nap the whole way to Galway.

#WL#

When my body detects that the RV has stopped moving I come out of the haze of sleep slowly, having napped a little too long for it to be properly called a nap. I had been dreaming one of those dreams where nothing really happens and it's more like a memory – Edward and I were seated on my couch watching reruns of an old television show that I loved to watch because it reminded me of home, or at least the home I grew up in. I'm vaguely aware of murmuring voices and I pick out Edward's among the others easily, feeling momentarily soothed by the deep tone until I remember that I am still angry with him. I scowl to myself and remain motionless on my bunk, listening to the conversations going on behind me.

"You guys go on up – I'll get her stuff and then come back and wake her up," Edward says to whoever in the group is still here. I'm sure if we've been here longer than a few minutes, people have wasted no time in getting out of the RV.

There's rustling and a couple of loud thumps as I listen to luggage being picked up and swung around and I hear my own suitcase slide out from under my bunk. A few moments later, the RV door swings open and then closes shut again with a dull _thwak. _I'm finally alone. I turn on my back and look out the small window at the foot of my bunk and gasp at what I see. The RV is parked outside of what looks like a castle – a small one – but a castle still. The building consists of a square tower constructed in grayish-brown stone, complete with long, tall windows and several skinny slits that I imagine were once used to defend the property if it's as old as I think it might be. There is a smaller wing off the large tower with white lattice windows that is almost completely covered in a deep evergreen shade of ivy that climbs up a portion of the larger tower.

The whole thing is a little strange but very beautiful and I lie still on my bunk and just look at it while I wait for Edward to return. It doesn't take him long – they probably got all checked in before they came back for the luggage.

"Where are we?" I ask groggily when he steps up into the RV and crouches down next to the bed.

"Just outside Galway," he answers gruffly and slides one more bag out from under the bed that I didn't realize was still here.

"Why are we at a castle?"

"It's a hotel."

"Okay, so why are we here?"

"Jasper booked this place because he thought Alice would like it after everything in Cork got messed up." He turns and leaves the RV, not even bothering to wait for me.

"Well, it's a better surprise than that stupid jail," I say to myself.

I swing my legs off the bunk and trudge into the hotel. I'm on the verge of a headache and even though I just woke up from a nap, I just want to lie back down again. This might be why I don't respond with a lot of enthusiasm when Alice approaches me in the lobby and asks me to go out just as I'm about to climb the grand staircase where the receptionist told me I should go to find my room.

"You guys should just go without me, I don't feel well," I say, waving her off.

"Bella, you haven't felt well for half this trip. If you're actually sick, go to a doctor. Otherwise, buck up and get the hell over it. You're not acting like yourself."

I ignore her and walk down the hall to my room. The inside of the castle is as impressive as the outside – it's decorated in deep color and rich fabrics and our bedroom (while considerably smaller than I would have thought it would be) is outfitted with a four poster bed covered in maroon and gold duvets and draped in curtains in similar shades. The future is clean but ancient looking and a lamp with an amber colored shade glows in the corner, electricity clearly being an added luxury. A luggage rack at the foot of the bed holds my suitcase while Edward's rests on the floor beside it and I go and flop on the bed and close my eyes immediately. I can hear Edward fiddling with a zipper on one of his bags in the bathroom and then the faucet turns on and I hear the _swish, swish_ of his toothbrush against his teeth. I still haven't gotten to brush my teeth today.

I don't open my eyes when he comes out of the bathroom but when he talks to me, I can tell he's standing right in front of me.

"Are you going to get ready to go out or not?"

"We're not filming tonight, are we?" I ask, even though I know weren't not.

"No."

"Then no, I'm staying here."

He sighs and I hear all his frustration in that one whoosh. "Suit yourself then."

I peek through one eye at him as he loosely laced his soccer trainers. You could barely even call them tied; sometimes I don't know why he bothers. He shakes his head. "Ridiculous," he murmurs under his breath, just loud enough that I can hear him although I don't think he meant for me to.

"I heard that," I snip.

"I don't care. It's true." He stands up and leaves the room.

I sit up and look out the window, where I can see Jasper standing next to a taxi. There's another taxi just pulling away and I catch a glimpse of Rose's blonde hair in the window and a figure next to her that must be Emmett. Jasper is gesturing to someone who must be walking toward him and in another second I see that it's Edward, shaking his head. Jasper ducks into the taxi and Edward follows directly after him. He turns his head toward our window just as the cab pulls away and our eyes meet. I halfway expect him to smile at me, but of course, he doesn't.

The further away from the fight we get, the stupider it seems. I know I shouldn't be so stubborn and I should have let it go. I know it's not helping anything for me to sit up here and refuse to go with them. I know Alice was right, I'm not acting like myself. I'm just on edge. This week has been an emotional rollercoaster and even though a lot of it's been great, it's been a lot to take in. I legitimately didn't feel well for the first few days, I've been crammed in an RV with five other people the whole time which has lead to the worst thing of all - I haven't had sex with my boyfriend in a week. I had sex with Edward more often when he _wasn't _my boyfriend. Fuck that fucking RV.

#WL#

Despite saying that I wanted to lay down and sleep, I spend the time while everyone else is out doing everything except that. I feel too antsy to sleep. I begin to watch a soccer match on TV but I feel lonely watching it on my own – I've never watched a match without Edward. A small, leather bound book I find in the drawer of a bedside table describes the history of the castle, but when my stomach starts to rumble, I'm more interested in the page about the bar.

"Why so sad, young lady?" the bartended asks me when I take a seat on one of the few barstools downstairs. The room is cozy from the roaring fire in the grand, stone fireplace. The old man smiles at me while he pours me a glass of an amber liquid I didn't ask for, but will happily drink.

"I had a fight with my boyfriend. I'm still in a fight with my boyfriend." I accept the glass and glance at the short bar food menu. I don't mind that it's short – the first thing on the menu sounds fabulous. "Can I get a bowl of the potato and leek soup?"

"Of course you can," the bartended smiles again and disappears for a moment behind the bar. He returns with a steaming bowl of soup and two slices of Irish soda bread and I dive right in. He leaves me to my dinner and doesn't bother me with any typical bartender banter or advice and I'm thankful for that.

I don't hang around long after I finish and since I don't have my cell phone to play any games or listen to any music, I decide to watch a sappy movie on a channel that seems to be Europe's answer to the Lifetime Network. It's just…well, it's just stupid really, but I don't have anything better to do. And that one is followed up by another one and by this time, I've invested nearly four hours of my time in shitty, sappy made-for-TV movies. It's nearly ten o'clock and while I'm normally more of a night-owl, I decide I might as well just get ready for bed.

I'm digging through my bag, trying to find Edward's jersey when the lock on the suite door clicks and Edward steps into the room.

"Did you get something to eat?" he asks, placing a white take-out container on the table beside the door.

"Yeah, I ate in the bar." I say quietly.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?" I keep my eyes focused on the inside of my bag.

"I want to say something."

"Say it then."

"Will you please look at me?"

I sigh, loudly for dramatic effect, and turn my head to look at him. He stands in front of me, near the side of the bed, with one hand reaching out to grasp the poster at the foot of the bed. It causes his white t-shirt to ride up and a bit of the dark auburn hair on his lower belly is visible just over the line of his boxers. I try not to look but it's hard not to – I haven't seen enough of it in the last week, that's for sure.

"I know you're mad at me, and that's fine. And to be honest, I'm mad at you, too." I scoff at that and he holds out his hand as if to shush me. "You might not like me very much right now, but I love you. Whether we agree or not, I love you. I just want to make sure you always know that."

There's something so solemn about his tone that my heart just about breaks and the guilt of having shut him out all day suddenly feels like it might crush me. My chin quivers for a second but I get it under control and look up into his earnest emerald eyes.

"My dad used to say that you should never go to bed mad. You never know what might happen overnight, he'd say, if one day you just don't wake up. You don't want the last thing you felt about the person you love to be anger."

"The chief's a wise man," Edward says quietly, moving a little closer to me. He reaches out and tucks some of my hair behind my ear and lets his fingers linger on the raven-colored strands.

I can't take it anymore. I'm going to do something I admittedly am not great at doing. I'm going to be the first to apologize.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, ever." I reach out and grasp his fingers in mine, blink quickly and purse my lips in an effort to keep any tears at bay. A couple of traitorous tears escape the corners of my eyes and Edwards swipes them from my cheeks with his fingertips.

"Blackbird, I can guarantee this won't be our last fight. We're going to disagree on things."

"I know that. But I'm sorry I drug it out."

"It's okay. It's been a hard week." He takes my chin into his hand and tilts it up while he bends to meet my lips. I open my mouth to him immediately and he pushes his tongue into my mouth, the taste of something sweet and the taste of him assaulting my senses. He begins to pull away from me but I lace my fingers through his hair and around the back of his head, holding him to me, not letting him stray more than a centimeter from my lips.

"I miss you, Edward." I whisper, my chin scratching against the stubble on his own.

"I miss you, too, baby," he replies, his voice husky and his eyes glimmering a dark jade. "You know, there is one good thing about fighting."

"There is?"

He nods. "Making up."

His lips connect with mine again and his fingers go to the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His kisses become more urgent as I lie back on the bed and pull him with me, wrapping my legs around his hips and holding him tightly between my thighs. His hands push the straps of my bra off my shoulders before yanking the cups down enough to release my breasts to his greedy lips which detach from my mouth to wrap around a nipple, biting and sucking and teasing me until I think I might lose my mind. I'm not even trying to keep quiet tonight, not even thinking about it, and the volume of the moans coming out of my mouth is growing steadily.

My fingers untangle from Edward's hair and fumble between the buttons on the fly of his jeans unsuccessfully before he removes his hands from my upper body to give me a little help and do it himself. I'm tugging the denim against his slim hips and when he's got half of the buttons undone, he moves to work on my own. We let go of each other for only a moment, just long enough for me to kick out of my pants and panties and for him to whip his t-shirt over his head and shove his jeans and boxers to the floor. His hands are back on my hips as quickly as they left and he remains off the bed, pulling my lower half off of the mattress and onto his cock in a move that sucks the breath from my lungs and makes my toes curl.

Edward's height means that his hips aren't level with the bed and his hands migrate from my thighs to curl around and support the small of my back and keep me connected to him. I move my legs from where they hang at his sides and wrap them around his waist, clenching my muscles to bring him as close as possible.

"Fuck," Edward breathes and moves back minutely before shifting forward again and deeper into me. "I love when you do that thing, it's so tight."

"I know you do," I pant, "that's why I do it." I wink at him and he grins and leans forward on top of me.

He begins to move in and out of my body, back and forth, until a short grimace crosses his features, almost like pain, and he lifts himself up a bit on his forearms. His thrusts slow a little and then stop and he drops my hips and pulls me to a sitting position, causing him to slip out of my body. I'm confused as he begins to reach around me, his hands playing with the clasp on my bra.

"This looks great on you, but it's chaffing the crap out of my chest," he says, slipping it over my arms and flinging it to the floor.

I grasp at his shoulders, desperate to feel him moving inside of me again, but he has other plans and sinks to his knees in front of where I sit on the edge of the bed. His palms come to rest against my knee caps and he parts my legs and leans closer into me, placing soft kisses from the space between my breasts and down my stomach, then further still until I gasp and throw my head back, holding myself up on my arms stretched out behind me.

"Yes," I hiss and pant, adjusting my hands behind me so that I can hold myself up on one arm and hold the back of his head with the other, pressing him against me as his tongue darts out against my clit, swirling and teasing and winding me up. His fingers flex against my knees, holding me open to him as my breath comes in faster and faster, my chest heaving.

"Stop," I beg him, "Babe, stop."

He looks up, his green eyes hooded and unfocused. "What? Are you okay?" His lips are wet with my pleasure and I blush, struck with how dirty and yet how utterly sexy it is.

"I want you," I pull on his biceps with my hands, trying to move him up onto the bed with me. "I want to feel you inside me when I come. Please. _Please_."

"You don't have to beg, Blackbird. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

He gets up off the floor and instead of moving over me as I expected, he passes me and lies down on the bed. My eyes move from his toes up his body and I drag my fingers along his shins, over his knees and thighs and into the dark auburn hair at the base of his cock. I lean over, taking him in my hand and placing an open-mouthed kiss on the tip before running my tongue along the underside as I roll his balls between my fingers. The muscles in his lower abs twitch and he groans, deep and gravelly. It spurs me on and I look up at him under my lashes as I take him into my mouth and suck, lightly and then harder, up and down.

"It's your turn to stop, Blackbird," he says, in a strained tone, "or I won't be able to give you what you want. Not for a little while anyway."

I release him with a pop and swing one leg over his thighs, shuffling my knees forward until the lips of my pussy rest directly over his cock. Edward reaches up and coaxes me down to lie on top of him, my breasts smashed against his chest and my chin tilted up to reach his lips with my own. I shove my hands between the mattress and Edward's shoulders, trying to get as close to him as possible. He curls his arms under my own and pulls me up so that I can only just feel the tip of his cock against me then reaches down around the back of my thigh and guides himself into me.

"Ahhh," I gasp against his mouth when he enters me, feeling it as acutely as I did only a few minutes ago, as I do every time we bring our bodies together.

"I love you," I whisper as my body slides back and forth against his, guided by his strong grasp and leaning back to look him in the eye, "I love you, I love you, I love you." I chant it to him, just as it runs through my head, because I can't think of anything except how full my heart is for him.

He snakes his hand between us, putting pressure where I need it while he begins to move a bit faster. His strokes are becoming more and more erratic and I move my mouth to his ear. He's trying hard to hold on for me.

"Let go, babe. I'm almost there, just let go."

I replace his fingers with my own and his breathes come harsh and loud from his nose as his lips press together then suddenly, he stills and his fingers dig into the fleshy part of my ass as he comes inside me, releasing a deep moan. I sit up just enough to give me the space I need to move my fingers a bit faster, giving myself the last push I need and I fall forward again, muffling my scream against his collarbone while my muscles shiver as I come around him.

I lay atop him with my ear to his chest, drawing in deep breaths and listening to the beating of his heart slow as he calms down. He rolls us to our sides and pulls the heavy blankets over us then strokes his fingers through my hair.

"If that's make-up sex, I'll be sure to start fights more often," I say into the crook of his neck.

He answers me with a giggle that soon becomes a full-blown laugh. My breasts jiggle against his chest with his laughter and I start too until we're both just laughing for the sake of laughing. We don't stop for a few minutes and I give a stuttering sigh, reveling in the warmth of his arms and, finally, getting to sleep in the same bed with him.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of you commented in the last chapter's reviews about how being in the RV might start to drive people crazy. Clearly, we're on the same page. But obviously, that can lead to make-up sex and that's one of the best kinds, right? :)<strong>

**Review if you have a minute!**

**LA**


End file.
